


Voltron: Legendary Rockstars

by Opl_Mor



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, And Lance, Battle of the Bands, Enemies to Lovers, Keith and Shiro are Adoptive Siblings, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Angst, Kinda, M/M, Power Bottom Keith (Voltron), Smut, Top Lance (Voltron), and also sing, college age, dj pidge, drummer Hunk, guitar keith, sex happens, then its a semi slow burn, they share
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2018-09-27 11:04:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 60,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10017020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Opl_Mor/pseuds/Opl_Mor
Summary: Lance and Hunk have dreamed of being on stage since they were big enough to hold their teeny tot guitar and drumset. It's what they've been working towards most of their lives, so when an opportunity arises to win a record deal with Altea Studios, they are more than ready to duke it out on stage in a Battle of the Bands. The only problem, their band has to have at least four members; and even after adding an unexpected player into the mix, they're still down one more.Enter Keith, nephew of the CEO of Galra Records. He's been looking for a way out from under Zarkon's thumb, and signing a contract with the one competitor willing to stand up to his uncle's company seems like a pretty good option....OR, the band au nobody asked for, but needed to happen.





	1. Shape of You

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, nor any of the songs used in the following text
> 
> Hello, world! I have been thinking about this au for a while now, and am pretty excited to share it. Let me know what you think!

Here’s the thing, dreams don’t come true. Sorry, but that’s life. That’s not to say dreams can’t be made into a reality; simply, that the reality in which they are made can never quite match up with our romanticized notions. Not that it's not good to have dreams- dreams are great- but, all I’m saying is you can’t keep going after perfection because it’s never gonna happen. People can so easily get swept away in their dreams that they forget what’s right in front of them, and they take what they have for granted. They refuse to recognize that dreams and reality are two separate things- I mean, literally, they are two separate words with completely different meanings- and, so, they’ll never be happy. Now, you might be wondering, imaginary reader, why I’ve decided to start off this story in such a dreary way. What makes me such an expert on such abstract concepts? Why should you listen to me at all? To the latter, I don’t know why you should listen. If you want to turn away I’ll only cry a little, but do feel free. To the former, what makes me such and expert? Well, I suppose _I’m_ not the expert, but I do know of someone. His name was Lance, and having a dream nearly killed him.

…

It was a gloomy Friday evening in early January. For most of the students surrounding Lance McClain it was the day before the weekend, it was some kid named Brody’s birthday (thanks facebook), but other than that, it was just another check on the calendar. But for Lance, for The Paladins, it was the day they played the biggest gig they’d ever had before. They were the kick off for this bar’s open mic, and he was about to go postal if time didn’t start going just a tinge faster.

The cool grey school sat like an ominus silhouette against the dark sky. Make no mistake, cool in this context isn’t meant as “awesome” or “radical” (who even says radical anymore??). It was cool in the sense that just looking at it would make anyone’s body temperature drop. The effect it had certainly wasn’t helped by the school’s budget that was too small to keep the building well maintained, and so, it was no surprise when the heater stopped working halfway through the afternoon classes. Luckily that was around 2 so it wasn’t too horrible outside for those students, unfortunately, it left everyone in the night classes SOL. It wasn’t exactly Mid-Western cold, but it was still uncomfortably nippy. It left students and teachers alike to wear their thicker jackets. They even had to break out the emergency space heaters. And the mere fact that they _had_ emergency space heaters on hand only shows how bad it was. It was a _good_ school, in fact, it was one of the best community colleges in the state; but the building itself was _old_ and _worn_ and they didn’t have the time or money to fix it up. The board was finishing up construction on a new sight for the college, but, lucky for Lance, they wouldn’t be moving over until _next_ fall. And so, they made do.

The halls were empty and classes filled for the final period of Lance’s day, and he fidgeted uncomfortably in his cold seat. _C’mon,_ he thought as the clock ticked away the final few minutes of class. _C’mon, baby, you’re almost there!_

“Lance?” A monotonous voice called his attention to a stubby man in the front of the class.

“Huh?”

“Can you answer the question?” Lance stared blankly as he tried going through everything he hadn’t been paying attention to. The professor gave an exasperated sigh. “Never mind, Katie?”

The girl in front of Lance sat straighter in her seat as she promptly answered whatever it was the teacher asked. Lance had noticed that she was usually pretty quiet and kept to herself unless she was showing off her incredible skill of remembering nonessential facts. She always looked really nice, too. Typically sporting button up blouses, casual skinny jeans, and above her big round glasses, her hair was parted in a way that practically covered the buzzed part of it, which Lance never got. Why shave your hair at all if you’re just gonna hide it?

In any case, whatever facts she was reciting, Lance didn’t hear. His attention had gone back to the cruel second hand slowly ticking away. It wasn’t as though he hated the class, but- actually, scratch that, he hated the class. History was so _boring_ . He understood the _importance_ of studying it- ya know, so it doesn’t repeat itself or whatever- but that didn't mean he had to like it. Yada yada yada is all he ever heard, ever read, ever said in there because he just didn’t _care_. Give him some paper, a pen, and a guitar and he would be good. Hell, even numbers and figures would have been better. But alas, he needed the credits; and so, he was held hostage with his peers until the final second clicked and the professor’s phone echoed through the tiny room. The little man sighed and dismissed the class.

 _Finally._ Lance barely had a grip on his bag before he rushed out the door and into the flooding hallway. He had hated high school, and he hated that his community college was built _like_ a high school. It jammed everyone together as they moved between classrooms, and they erupted out the doors like a well shaken soda. After haphazardly buckling his helmet over a stocking hat, he wasted no time unlocking to his bike and left campus. Why his car had to be broke into right when winter came was beyond him. Blue was a good girl and always came through, so Lance couldn't understand why anyone would ever hurt her like that. Had he seen the bastard, he most definitely would have beaten them to a pulp. But as it was, Blue’s window was smashed in and Lance’s laptop with his final 10 page paper saved to the hard drive was stolen. That was a particularly good day.

In any case, without Blue, getting from class to the show in time was going to be a little more difficult. Yet, somehow, he made it across the city with 10 minutes to spare.  

“Dude,” Hunk started frantically as he met him at the back door. “Cutting it kinda close, don’t ya think?”

“Sorry,” Lance panted as he slid off his helmet. “Blue’s still in the shop.”

“Why did you have to take night classes, again?”

“Because,” Lance pulled out a blue long sleeved button down to put over his pit stained grey tee. What? He had _just_ ridden 8 miles in a little less than half an hour. At least he had strong deodorant. “ I have a _job_.”  

“I know, dude, we _all_ have jobs.” Hunk sighed. “But hey,” He picked up his drumsticks from on top of an abandoned amp. “Once we make it big, you won’t have to have that one anymore!”

Lance smiled and pulled his acoustic guitar over his shoulder. “I like your thinking, big guy.”

Hardly anyone paid them any mind when they got on the stage and started setting up. Lance’s heart was hammering, and his eyes were watering from the harsh lights. Hunk clapped him on the shoulder on his way to the drumset. It made him take a deep breath before settling on the tall stool. He cleared his throat into the mic, but even then, the chatter barely died down.

“Um, hi.” His voice squeaked and he cleared his throat again. “How are you all doing tonight?” There was no response, so he awkwardly kept going. “I’m Lance and this is Hunk and we are The Paladins. So, erm, thank you.”  

There was a halfhearted scatter of applause as Lance took another deep breath. He closed his eyes and stilled his mind. They didn’t matter, so what if they weren’t listening? So what if they didn’t like it? This was their music and, right now, _they_ didn’t matter. The Paladins opened with their favorite covers: [Here Without You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RxWEvV9zYj4) by 3 Doors Down, Animals, [Torn](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R5Cz9DnjbzU&index=31&list=LLeyo2gxbBJpam6JWplDRRfA) , and [Say You Won't Let Go](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sm1bTL4bQXQ&index=29&list=LLeyo2gxbBJpam6JWplDRRfA) all by Haggar. Now, dear reader, please don’t get the wrong idea. Lance didn’t do these covers because he _personally_ idolized them, or even liked them. They were awful, and don’t even get him _started_ on the lead singer, Lotor, Prince of Douches and King of Autotune. But he had to admit that whoever actually _wrote_ their songs was talented. There was depth behind the the music that just got lost in all the other crap; and Lance thoroughly enjoyed stripping them down to rebuild them in what he felt was a more genuine rendition of that heart.

Anyway, by the end of their slot, the applause had grown substantially, and Lance was gaining some confidence.   

“So, this next one is an original piece we’ve been working on.” Lance spoke into the mic which grazed his lips. “It’s called _Shape of You_.”  

His heart had picked up again, somehow it was different when it was his _own_ material, but it was too late to go back now. His [fingers](https://rubbish-in-space.tumblr.com/post/157625743769/okay-but-imagine-lance-singing-this-source) seemed to move on their own, and the effect was instantaneous. All his nerves faded away. He opened his eyes half lidded.

_“The club isn't the best place to find a lover_

_So the bar is where I go_

_Me and my friends at the table doing shots_

_Drinking faster and then we talk slow_

_Come over and start up a conversation with just me_

_And trust me I'll give it a chance now_

_Take my hand_

_Stop put Van The Man on the jukebox_

_And then we start to dance_

_Got me feeling like_

_Girl, you know I want your love_

_Your love was handmade for somebody like me_

_Come on now, follow my lead_

_I may be crazy, don't mind me”_

The corner of his mouth curved seductively with an arched eyebrow.

_“Say, boy, let's not talk too much_

_Grab on my waist and put that body on me_

_Come on now, follow my lead_

_Come on now, follow my lead”_

Hunk started in with a beat- adding depth to the song as Lance bit his lip in a breath.

_“I'm in love with the shape of you_

_We push and pull like a magnet do_

_Although my heart is falling too_

_I'm in love with your body_

_Last night you were in my room_

_And now my bed sheets smell like you_

_Everyday discovering something brand new_

_I'm in love with your body”_

He smirked and closed his eyes.

“ _Oh I oh I oh I oh I_ ” Hunk started in.

“ _I'm in love with your body_ ”

“ _Oh I oh I oh I oh I_ ”

“ _I'm in love with your body_ ”

“ _Oh I oh I_ ”

“ _Yeah_ ”

“ _Oh I oh I_ ”

_“Yeah, I'm in love with your body_

_Everyday discovering something brand new_

_I'm in love”_

_“With the shape of you”_

Lance’s lips curled into a half smile while his tongue flicked out to wet them. This was his favorite part.

_“Salir puede no ser la la mejor idea para encontrar el amor_

_Asi que mejor me quedo con mis amigos_

_Tomando algo hasta que salga el sol_

_Entonces te acercas a mi diciendo como estas_

_Pues alla mucho mejor, me agarras bien de la mano_

_Dedos al piano, mientras que canto esta cancion_ ”

Hunk shook his head as he watched his best friend start making small body rolls behind his guitar. He could already picture the dancing everyone would be subjected to when he was guitar free. If they ever found the members to make that happen, but more on that thought later.

“ _Sabes que quiero tu amor_

_Un amor que yo siento dentro de mi_

_Sigueme, sigueme si, me vuelvo loco yo sin ti_

_Ya di, que no hablemos mas, agarrate mas fuerte_

_Pegate a mi,_

_sigueme , sigueme si_

_sigueme, sigueme si_ ”

Lance smiled widely at the spellcast audience.

“ _Me enamoraste tan solo tu,_

_como un iman en la multitud_

_Me llevas hasta tus labios tu_

_Me tienes loco y lo sabes_

_Tu cuerpo es tu gran virtud, una silueta a contraluz_

_Cada paso que tu das un nuevo sur_

_me enamoraste tan solo tu”_

Then, he picked out an unsuspecting victim and winked; he was too far away to see the deep crimson that flooded his victim’s face.

“ _Oh I oh I oh I oh I_ ”

“ _Me enamoraste tan solo tu,_ ”

“ _Oh I oh I oh I oh I_ ”

“ _me enamoraste tan solo tu_ ”

“ _Oh I oh I oh I oh I_ ”

“ _Me enamoraste tan solo tu,_ ”

“ _Oh I oh I oh I oh I_ ”

“ _cada paso que tu das un nuevo sur_

_Me enamoraste tan solo”_

Lance looked back at Hunk and nodded. This was going well, the crowd seemed more engaged. Good thing they saved this for last.

_“Come on, be my baby, come on_

_Come on, be my baby, come on_

_Come on, be my baby, come o_ n”

God, it was getting hot. What he wouldn’t give for a cold beer.

“ _Come on, be my baby, come on_

_Come on, be my baby, come on_

_Come on, be my baby, come on_

_Come on, be my baby, come on_

_Come on, be my baby, come on”_

His eyes found their way back to the guy he winked at. From here, under the lights, he couldn’t make him out clearly, but he looked like he could be cute, and wasn’t one of the perks of being a rockstar picking up fans at gigs?

_“I'm in love with the shape of you_

“ _We push and pull like a magnet do_ ”

“ _Baby_ , _although my heart is falling too_

 _I'm in love with your body_ ”

“ _Last night you were in my room_

 _And now my bed sheets-_ ”

“ _smell like you-_ ”

“ _Everyday discovering something brand new”_

Lance broke his gaze from his target and his eyes slid closed.

 _“Me enamoraste tan solo tu_ ”

“ _Oh I oh I oh I oh I_ ”

“ _I'm in love with your body_ ”

“ _Oh I oh I oh I oh I_ ”

“ _I'm in love with your body_ ”

“ _Oh I oh I oh I oh I_ ”

The crowd watched as Lance’s eyes opened halfway and pulled his lips into one final heart throbbing smirk.

“ _me enamoras, me enamoras, me enamoras, solo tu_

_Everyday discovering something brand new_

_I'm in love with your body too.”_

The entire bar burst into applause, enthusiastic whooping, and they even earned a few whistles. Heat rushed into Lance’s cheeks as he beamed at them. There was a certain high that came with the rumble of a crowd- a sense of appreciation, of admiration that never failed to flood him with adrenaline. Hunk cleared his throat and brought Lance back to reality. They bowed and waved themselves off the small stage.

“Holy shit, Hunk,” Lance started excitedly, not even stopping to catch his breath. “How awesome was that!?”

Hunk took a deep breath and smiled widely. “Pretty freakin awesome!”

“Right!?” He carefully tucked his Guitar in its case. “We have to do that again.”

“Well,” Hunk scratched his head. “Isn’t that the plan?”

“Right you are, my friend,” Lance put his hand on Hunk’s shoulder and waved the other in front of them. “And this is only the beginning! It only goes up from here!”

“I’ll drink to that!”

“I _can’t_.” Lance winced.

“What? We have to celebrate!”

“But my family’s in town.”

“Dude,” Hunk deadpanned. “They _live_ in town.”

“Yeah, but it's my mom and uncles birthday tomorrow, and my Abuela's birthday on Monday which makes it kinda a really big weekend in my house.”

“I know, but c’mon, dude!” He pouted. “ _One_ drink. Besides, I’d think you’d want to be as far away from your house as possible.”

“Ah, it’s not _that_ bad.”

“Is your Aunt Nikki there?”

Lance shuddered. “Don't remind me, but still.”

“Okay, what if I give you a ride home?”

Lance raised his eyebrow. “Go on.”

“And I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Sold to the lovely man with the headband!” He grabbed Hunk’s hand and raised it in the air. “Have I told you how wonderful you are?”

“You could stand to say it more often.”

“But then,” Lance started smugly. “ _I’m_ pretty wonderful too.”  

Hunk’s face fell. “Is it too late to retract my offer.”

“Yes.”

The bar was fairly packed by this point which made getting to the bar an elbow job to cut through the crowd. They waved down the bartender to cash in their promised payment in drinks, and settled on the stools at a high top table near the bar.

“The usual?” One of the bartenders asked when she spotted them at the table.

“Yes please!” Lance called over the noise of the crowd.

She was wearing her dirty blond hair in a messy bun, black jeans, a fitted uniform tee which spelled ‘ _Balmera_ ’ in bright blue print, and only wore the minimum amount of makeup. Though, Hunk didn’t think she needed any. He was crushing hard, and what drove Lance crazy was that his friend couldn’t see that she was crushing on him just as much.  

“Here you go, boys.” She smiled brightly as she set their drinks in front of them.

“So, Shay,” Hunk started. “How are you?”

“Oh you know,” She shrugged. “It’s busy.”

“Is there any way I can help?” He straightened up and rubbed his neck. “N-not that you’re not capable of handling it.”

Shay giggled. “That’s very sweet of you to ask, but we’re okay. Besides,” Shay reached across the table and put her hand over his. “You’re the ones who brought in all this business so thank you! We really needed it.”

“Heh. Y-yeah.” Hunk gulped with crimson cheeks. “D-don’t mention it.”

“You guys rocked up there tonight.”

“Y- you think so? Because I was a little worried we were off.”

“Hey!” Lance stopped mid-sip. “Speak for yourself, pal!”

“No,” Shay leaned forward and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “I thought you were really great.”

“Ummm, thanks.”

Lance rolled his eyes.

“Oh,” She started with a blush. “You don’t need to thank me, I’m just stating facts.”

Lance nudged his best friend for encouragement. _Dude, just ask her out already!_

“So, um,” Hunk began nervously. “Do you, like maybe if you’re free or something-”

“Shay!” The other bartender called. “Drinks now, flirt later!”

She turned a rosy shade of red, but ignored her brother. “Hunk, what were you-”

“Shay!”

“Coming!” She sighed. “I’m sorry, I’ll have to talk to you later.”

“Yeah,” Hunks face fell. “O- okay.” She gave him one last apologetic smile before running back to the bar. He groaned and dropped his head to the table.

Lance began patting his back. “I feel ya, buddy.”

“Why can’t I just say what I want to say to her?”

Lance sighed sympathetically. “Not everyone can stay calm and collected around the person they like.”

“Not everyone?” Hunk lifted his head to look at his friend doubtfully. “I hope you’re not counting yourself as an exception.”

“What do you mean? I am smooth as silk around the people I like.”

“Sure,” He shrugged. “If by _silk_ you mean _crunchy_ _peanut butter_ , then I agree wholeheartedly.”

“Okay, WOW.” Lance glared. “I came out to have a good time, and honestly I’m feeling so attacked right now.”

“Dude,” Hunk rolled his eyes. “You are a living, breathing meme.”

“Am I supposed to be offended?”

“ _Could_ you be?”

Lance gasped. “So wow. Much offense.”

Hunk sighed in exasperation. They turned in their seats to watch the next guy stumble up to the stage. He was very obviously drunk and had to grip the mic stand to keep his balance.

“Oh, poor guy.” Hunk shook his head.

“I give him 45 seconds.” It wasn't even that until someone went up and helped him off stage. The next person went up, a young girl with a full sleeve tattoo, and grabbed a guitar. She started off with a nice rhythm, but Lance ended up drowning out her voice as he caught eye of the pair of guys in the corner. One was tall, well built, short black hair, and strong jaw- the other was slightly smaller in build, but had striking features from his cheekbones to his long neck, to his wide eyes that seemed to alternate between the table in front of him and the man across. Maybe is was his entirely black outfit complete with leather jacket, or maybe it was the way he looked as though he was annoyed by everyone and everything, but something about him seemed dangerous and Lance couldn't decide if that was a good or bad. The other one caught his eye, and nudged his friend. Lance turned around before he could tell if he was being pointed out. He probably was, though. I mean, he did just  _stare_ at them shamelessly, what else did he expect to happen when he was being so obvious?

“You okay, dude?” Hunk bent his head to look down at Lance who had hunched his shoulders to lean on the surface of the high top.

“Are they still lookin over here?” Lance asked in a hushed tone.

“Who?”

“Those hot guys in the corner.”

Hunk craned his neck to scan the room. “I don’t see ‘em.”

“The ones in the booth in the corner.”

“Oh,” Hunk nodded. “You mean, Dark and Broody and his pal Tall and Handsome?”

“ _Don't look at them!_ ”

“But you just asked me if they were looking over here and how was I supposed to do that without looking over _there_?”

“Okay whatever, but are they?”

“Yeah, they totally are.” Hunk repositioned himself so that he was leaning back with his elbows on the table and pretended to casually look at everything in the room. “Oh, now they’re talking to each other, and Dark and Broody just glanced over, now Tall and Handsome’s smirking and Dark and Broody is- Holy Quiznak, he’s coming over!”

“ _What_!?”

“What, dude,” Hunk shrugged. “If you think he’s hot, isn't it a good thing?”

“Depends, does he look mad?”

“Uhh, you know I can't really tell.”  

“ _Hunk_!”

“Don't worry, dude,” Hunk started while rolling up his sleeves, “I got your back if he tries any- wait, where'd he go?”

“Um,” Lance turned his face toward the smooth voice and caught his breath at the guy beside him. The stranger’s eyes shifted between him and the table a few times before he took a small breath. “Hey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here are the links to all the original songs!  
> [Here Without You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kPBzTxZQG5Q) by 3 Doors Down  
> Animals is by Maroon 5 but will be linked in the next chapter...  
> [Torn](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VV1XWJN3nJo) by Natalie Imbruglia  
> [Say You Won't Let Go](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0yW7w8F2TVA) by James Arthur  
> [Shape of You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JGwWNGJdvx8) by Ed Sheeran


	2. Shape of Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thank you for coming back and for the kudos and comments. You guys are awesome!  
> Anyway, this chapter is basically the last, but a day in the life of Keith before the awkward meeting at the bar. I hope you enjoy :)  
> Also, the kid's voice in the acoustic link in the chapter isn't... exactly what I picture for Lance, but I really love the guitar in it!

Earlier that day- about the time Lance had settled into his class-and on the other side of the city, Keith Kogane was having his own troubles paying attention, though not to a stubby professor. No, he was having trouble listening to his uncle drone on and on about how disappointed he was in Keith. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard a thousand times before. So, actually, “having trouble” isn’t a good description, it was more like he was “actively ignoring” his uncle. And who could blame him? The guy was a dick who constantly looked down on anyone who wasn’t Galra, well, who wasn’t “Galra Royalty”. Whatever the fuck that meant. Keith internally rolled his eyes. _You’re the CEO, not a fucking king, you jackass._

“Something you want to say, boy?” Zarkon drew out dangerously.

 _Shit_. Maybe that eye roll wasn’t so internal. “No.”

Zarkon narrowed his eyes and crossed his desk to loom over his nephew. “You know,” _here we go_ . “I didn’t _have_ to take you in, and had I known what an ungrateful urchin you’d be, I wouldn’t have.” Keith bit the inside of his cheek because he knew that arguing usually resulted in a shiny new bruise. “Don’t forget who’s paying for that shack you call an apartment,” _Only because I literally work for you!_ “Be a bit more grateful.”

And that was his queue. “Yes, thank you, uncle, for taking in a spoiled brat like me.”

Zarkon curled his lip. Keith hadn’t meant for it to come out like that, but somehow his underlying resentment of the man leaked through. _1, 2-_ dense knuckles from the back of Zarkon’s hand collided with Keith’s cheek. His face moved with the momentum and he let out a sharp breath. Fuck. He knew that was going to happen, he didn’t flinch anymore, but he was surprised that he almost made it to 3. His eyes watered, but he had no control over that- what he could control was straightening back up, stiffening his lips, and looking ahead. God, he hated this man. _At least this bruise will go with the ones from the fight._

“Remember you place, Keith,” Zarkon drawled while wiping his hands. “You may be my blood, but you’re no more important to this family than a piece of sand is to a mountain. Still, it is rather unfortunate that you’re associated with the studio...”

“I don’t want anything to do with this studio.”

“Well, you have something to do with it whether you like it or not!” Zarkon snapped. “As much as it pains me to admit, even if you refuse to write anymore, you’re still _tied_ to this empire. You have no claim to any of it, but your face is already known as a part in this family.” _Not by choice_ . “Your behavior reflects on our image, and you will _not_ do anything to damage it again.”

Keith nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“I mean it, if you get into even _one_ more fight-”

“I understand, uncle,” Keith deadpanned. “It won’t happen again.”

“It better not.”

“May I leave?”

Zarkon glared but nodded, and he disappeared through the door faster than a bolt of lightning. Once again, Keith found himself going through every reason he shouldn’t have put up with Zarkon’s shit, but he knew full well that his internal lecture wasn’t going to stick. It never did. He knew he couldn’t make it on his own, his uncle would make sure of it. Nobody in town would hire him with the threat of Galra Records looming over them. And that’s exactly what would happen if Keith ever left. Since he was technically family, Zarkon kept him around to keep a warm image of the studio; and, more importantly, he was afraid that if Keith got loose, he would reveal to the world who the _real_ talent behind Haggar’s platinum records was. Lotor would be ruined as an artist since he built his entire image on the genius of ‘his’ creativity. He’d played the role of a young prodigy since Junior year of high school, and people ate it up- somehow always overlooking the fact that _his father_ was literally producing his music. Keith was trapped, and he only had one person in the whole world he could talk to about it.

When he stepped outside, there were groups of people hanging out on the lawn. Keith scoffed at them. Why the hell were these people just… there? It wasn’t exactly warm outside either, so that wasn’t an excuse. Didn’t they have somewhere to be? And if not, why weren’t they hanging out at an actual _place_ ? A place for people to, you know, _hang out_ . Like a bar, or a restaurant, or their fucking _homes_ ! It annoyed him. _People_ annoyed him.

He pulled out his phone and dialed the number of the one person who didn’t.

“ _Hey, Keith! What’s up?_ ”

Shiro wasn’t blood, but he was the closest thing he had to someone actually giving a damn about his existence. “I just got done with a lovely meeting.”

“ _Zarkon?_ ”

“Yup.”

There was a drawn out sigh on the other side of the line. “ _Keith-_ ”

“Look, I know, okay?” Keith cut him off sharply. “I just, fuck, Shiro, I hate that bastard with every fiber of my _being_!”

“ _I know you do. And so do I._ _Wanna talk about it?_ ”

“Actually, I'd rather have a drink… or five.”

 _“Does that mean you want to go out?_ ”

“I’d rather stay in, maybe with a movie and a bottle of Jack?”

“ _Keith,_ ” Shiro started in his best ‘dad’ voice. “ _You can’t keep yourself cooped up all the time._ ”

“I’m not cooped up all the time.” Keith’s voice raised defensively. “Case and point: I’m outside right now, miles away from home!”

“ _Talking to your abusive uncle doesn’t count._ ” Keith stopped and considered Shiro’s offer. On one hand, it had been months since he’d gone out and being somewhere outside of work or his apartment didn’t sound awful; on the other, it’s only been a handful of minutes and people were _still_ annoying. “ _Keith? I know you’re thinking about it… c’mon, just say you’ll go! Be around other people, even if it’s from a distance. You don’t have to_ _talk_ _to anyone, we can find the darkest corner of the place if it makes you feel better._ ”

“Fine.”

“ _Yes! So there’s this open mic tonight…_ ”

“You asshole! You were planning on this weren’t you?”

“ _And if I was?_ ”

Keith groaned. “You’re not _scouting_ are you?”

Shiro laughed. “ _Not tonight, little bro._ ”

“Good because I want no part in luring more innocent people into that deathtrap. No offense.”

Shiro sighed again. “ _None taken_.”

But Keith knew some had, in fact, been taken. Shiro couldn’t help it that working for Galra had its benefits- really, really good benefits- but that didn’t mean Shiro _liked_ the job. Sure, the studio pumped out golden records, but it had a habit of treating its artists and employees like perfectly manicured marionette dolls. And God help them if they pulled too hard on their strings. Keith knew that best of all.

“So,” Keith redirected the conversation. “What time is this thing?”

“ _Starts at 7. I think there’s a band opening, but then it’s a free for all so if you wanted to-_ ”

“I’m gonna cut you off right there, Shiro, and say that if that was your motivation, I’ll go back to my plan of curling on my couch and eating fruitloops.”

“ _Okay, okay! It was just a suggestion. So, I'll pick you up at 6:30?_ ”

“Nah, I'm gonna ride Red.”

“ _Someday, you're gonna kill yourself on that thing._ ”

“Promise?”

“ _Keith_.”

“I was kidding, Shiro.”

There was a long sigh on the other end. “ _Just be_ _safe_ _, Keith._ ”

“I will, old man.”

“ _Hey! I'm not that much older than you._ ”

“Yeah. Whatever. I’ll see you later.”

“ _Keith, I mean it about being safe. Wear your hel-_ ”

“Oops.” He shrugged innocently to himself when the call seemed to have dropped on its own accord. Not that Keith didn't appreciate the concern, but he was over being lectured for the day. So he pulled his helmet over his head and rode home to get ready for a night out he still wasn't so sure he wanted.

The performance part of the bar wasn't particularly big, but it was already fairly crowded. He didn’t know if it was the open mic or the band that was drawing everyone here at once, but he was already regretting his decision to come. True to his word, Shiro was waiting for him at a table in the corner across from the the stairs going into the main floor of the bar.

“Jesus Christ, Keith.” Shiro started as soon as he saw him and immediately moved to examine his new yellowing mark.

“Nice to see you, too, bro.” He replied coolly while ducking out of range.

“If you’re not gonna stand up for yourself-”

“Shiro, I’m _fine_!” Keith snapped, gaining the attention of a few patrons. He dropped his voice. “I didn’t come here for a lecture.”

“That’s exactly what you said last time,” Shiro grabbed his chin and forced Keith’s face up into the light. “I swear I will-”

“No you’re won't.” Keith pulled out of his grasp. “You’re not losing your job over _this_.”

“Maybe I don’t want a job with a psychopath boss who likes to beat up their own nephews.”

“Well, I’m an adult, so it’s not like I can really _do_ anything about it.”

“You could press charges.”

“I be drowning in a sea of lawyers before I even finished the claim.”

“It’d still be something.”

“Shiro, I’m serious.” He slid into the booth with crossed arms. “Drop it. I don’t want to talk. Right now, I just want to drink and watch strangers make complete fools out of themselves.”

Shiro sighed in defeat. “That’s harsh, Keith, most people just want to taste the spotlight and have a good time.”

Keith scoffed. “Why do something if you don’t plan on going anywhere with it?”

Shiro shook his head, but didn’t comment. He knew Keith was damaged. He was when he met the kid 6 years ago and had just started pumping out songs for his pampered cousin. Since then, Shiro had done everything in his power to help repair some of that damage over the years, and, at least he liked to think, there’d been progress.

“Um, hi.” A squeaky voice called for their attention just as their drinks got to the table. “How are you all doing tonight?” Keith wanted to roll his eyes. He’d been around enough artists to know all they were after was attention. Nobody was in it for the music anymore, the purity in creating something outside of oneself, of painting a picture with your song and sharing it with the world solely for the purpose of making the world a little brighter. No, in all his experiences with every so called ‘artist’ that walked through Galra’s doors, their goal was fame and fortune and they would do just about anything to get it. Including, signing away their soul to the devil himself because that’s was Zarkon essentially was- Satin’s incarnate with Lotor as his unholy spawn. Yet, his unimpressed gaze stayed fixed to the guy on the small stage. He seemed nervous as Keith watched him gulp down a boulder before clearing his throat. “I’m Lance and this is Hunk and we are The Paladins. So, erm, thank you.”  

Shiro was wearing a supportive smile and to that Keith _did_ roll his eyes. Why’d he have to be so damn nice to everyone? There he was, silently nodding encouragement to complete strangers that probably didn’t deserve it. _That whole ‘innocent til proven guilty’ thing’s only gonna bite him in the ass._ Keith crossed his arms and sulked in his seat, bracing himself for what he was sure was going to be a set of off key covers.

And he was proven right as they began their first song. Except, when the guy on stage started to sing, it wasn’t off key at all. The beats were on time and rise and fall of the chords were well done, so, even he had to admit they weren't completely talentless. As he watched them- watched how the singer’s expressions changed with the progression of the music, putting his soul into it- he made a mental note to make _sure_ they weren’t scouted by Galra. Something in him didn't want to see that soul sucked out.

Shiro clapped enthusiastically when their song came to an end. “They’re good, right?”

“They’re okay.” Keith shrugged and Shiro knew that was good. If he hadn’t liked them, he would have just turned around and said nothing. Shiro smiled. Keith had needed so much more than he would have admitted.

 _This was a good idea_ , Shiro mentally patted himself on the back. Then the kid on stage introduced their next song and his face fell. _This was a_ _bad_ _idea_.

Keith clenched his jaw got up right then. He knew this music inside and out, up and down, and he _hated_ it. He hated was it became, how twisted, how _polluted._ It wasn’t okay and like hell he was going to sit through another shitty tribute to his mangled music. He had every intention of storming off, his legs were already full of tension to push him out as soon as possible, but he [froze](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WEXDLhCGjww&list=LLeyo2gxbBJpam6JWplDRRfA&index=3) as soon as the music started.  

It seemed impossible, but this was _his_ song. It had the heart that had been stripped away. This performance was giving its life back- its sound- if only for tonight. And Keith stood completely transfixed by the guy gently swaying to his music behind a well loved guitar. He was… _something_.

“You okay, Keith?” Shiro asked, his voice full of concern as he watched his little brother stand frozen in step.

“Huh?” Keith shook his head as he was pulled back to the moment. “Um, yeah, I just…”

Shiro nodded slowly as his sentence teetered off. “Okay… well are you gonna sit back down or do you want to stand there all night?”

Keith tore his eyes away from the stage again and slid back into his seat. They went into their second cover of Hagger, then their third, and each one had their own unique sound.

In the middle of the last one, Shiro leaned over and smiled. “Looks like you have a fan.”

There was a sharp pang in Keith’s chest as his face fell. “No, _Hagger_ does.”

“I don’t know,” He shrugged. “Do they _sound_ like Haggar?”

“Doesn't matter, I don't have any fans.” Keith scoffed. “ _I_ don't exist, remember?”

“Keith, you exist.”

He rolled his eyes. He wasn't here to talk, what was so hard to understand about that? He finished his beer and ordered another between songs. Retraining his eyes to the stage just as they started on an original. If Keith was impressed by them before, he was _blown away_ now.

The stranger’s performance was _breathtaking_ , and his jaw literally dropped when the song turned bilingual. Under the bright lights, the singer's warm brown skin seemed to glow with honey which matched well with the smoothness of his voice. When he flipped his chocolate hair out of his face, Keith felt something in his chest flutter, and for a second found himself wondering if his skin would melt like sugar under his tongue.

His mind was already conjuring images of this stranger’s euphoric face, of his wanton voice echoing in his ears. Keith’s gaze was grabbed by him a moment before he winked. Holy shit, it had been quite a while since he was thrown head first into the deep waters of pure unadulterated lust, but, _damn_ , he wasn’t complaining. Then, just as he was convincing himself he’d imagined the whole exchange, the bastard did it again- singling him out and smiling seductively over his lyrics.

And suddenly, Keith’s imagination was morphing into interlocked fingers, heads thrown back in laughter, and moonlight kisses. It flushed his face with more heat than flashes of meaningless sex ever could. He didn't believe in love at first sight- hell, he didn't believe in _love_ \- but for a single moment he thought _‘what if?_ ’, and it was terrifying.

Then, as quickly as the thought was there, it was gone and forgotten. He threw back more of his drink to hopefully cool the burning in his cheeks, and the song came to an end. The small space bursted in cheers. Shiro nearly took out his eardrums with a glass shattering whistle and Keith had to pay him back by punching him in the arm.

“Ow,” Shiro fended agony by clutching his bicep. He rolled his eyes. They both knew that hurt Keith more than it had hurt him. Quite literally, the guy was built like a rock. “He definitely had his eye on you, though.”

“He probably could even see past the stage lights.”

“No,” He smiled. “There was a clear line between the two of you, and, mark my words, it was _intended_.”

 _What's with all the blushing tonight?_ “I- I didn't even notice.”

“Keith, by now you should know that you can't lie to me.”

“Can too.”

“I’ve known you long enough to recognize your tells.”

“What _are_ my tells?”

“Well, if I told you, you'd try to change them.”

 _Sharp bastard._ “Whatever.”

“Why don’t you go talk to him?”

“You can't be serious.”

“C’mon, Keith, how long has it been?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Shiro’s smile faltered. “Touche.”

They both took a large drink.

Suddenly, Shiro sat a little straighter. “Don't look now, but your crush is checking you out.”

“He’s not my crush,” Keith’s eyes followed Shiro’s nod in the direction of the guy with his back to them. “And he’s not even looking.”

“He was.” Keith sighed and Shiro smiled.

“And now he’s not.”

“C’mon buy him a beer.”

“Shiro, no.”

“What harm could it do?” Shiro shrugged. “Best case scenario, you have a date, worst case scenario, you can keep your original sad date of eating fruitloops alone in the dark.”

“I do love fruitloops.” He sighed. “What would I even _say_?”

“Well,” Shiro started. “Typically you start with ‘hello’,” Keith glared. “I don't know, talk about the show. Tell him how good they were.”

“He probably gets that all the time.”

“Then talk about the weather, for Christ’s sake!”

“That's lame,” Keith huffed. “He’s _here_ , he knows what the weather’s like.”

Shiro groans. “Keith, you're over thinking this, just say _hi_.”

“What if he asks about my shiny new bruise?”

He shrugged. “Just makeup an awesome story about how you took on three linebackers at once.”

Keith furrowed his brow. “That wouldn't work.”

“You’d be surprised.” Shiro laughed. “I’ve picked girls up by talking about how I got my scar.”

“You busted your face on a curb.”

“Yeah, but they didn't need to know that.” He winked.

“I don't know…”

“It’ll be good for you.”

“I didn't come here to _talk_ to anyone.” Keith crossed his arms in a final argument.

“If you don’t,” He started seriously. “I swear to God I'll put a boot on Red.”

Keith narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. “You wouldn't _dare_.”

“Oh,” Shiro smirked triumphantly as he dangled Keith’s keys in his face. “I _would_.”

Keith glowered as he slid out of the booth. “You’re a real bastard, you know that?”

“In fact, I _do_.” He smirked. “Now scoot.”

Keith took a deep breath and turned around. _It's okay, I've done it a thousand times, this isn't any different._ But why did it _feel_ like it? His heart was pounding in his head, and, God it would be so much easier if the rest of that alcohol would kick in! As it was, however, he somehow made it across the room. His mark was turned away when he walked up so he cleared his throat awkwardly. _Fuck Shiro for making me do this._

“Um,” Wide crystal blue eyes turned to him, momentarily making him forget what he was doing there at all. They entranced him to the point that he had to avert his eyes and take a small breath. _“_ Hey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the link to [Animals](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qpgTC9MDx1o) by Maroon 5  
> 


	3. Mammals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and me baby ain't nothin but mammals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much! I truly appreciate each and every one of you for coming back to this fic. Every kudo/comment/hit warms my heart!  
> There's a link in the middle of this chapter that really sets the mood, but it's not necessary to the story per say, so feel free to skip over it!  
> *Edit: AAAAHHHHH! OH my quiznak guys, PLEASE look at this AMAZING [commission](https://rubbish-in-space.tumblr.com/post/164305263674/emuyh-art-commission-for-rubbish-in-spaces) done by [emuyh-art](https://emuyh-art.tumblr.com) for chapter 3. They are amazing so please look at all of their other art!<

“Hi.” Lance replied blankly. Keith fidgeted nervously looking between him and Hunk, prompting Lance to raise his eyebrows to his friend, giving him the age old signal to get the funk outta Dodge.

“Oh, uh,” Hunk started awkwardly. “I-I’ve gotta go...um…go take a dump.”

“Umm…” Keith eyed him. “O- okay?”

He shuffled away with his embarrassment painted all over his face; and when Keith looked back, Lance’s face was buried deep in his palm.

“So…” He started as he sat beside him at the high top.

Lance looked at him with a new smirk on his face. “So?”

“Hey.”

Lance’s smile widened. “You already said that.”

“Oh,” Keith mentally slapped himself. _Why is this hard?_ “R-right.”

Lance leaned in with a bright smile on his face. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Keith mentally shook himself and smirked. “That was gonna to be my line.”

“In that case, you can get the next round.”

“I can live with that.”

“So, what do you want?”

“Whatever porter they’ve got on tap.”

Lance looked at him and nodded in approval. “Nice, I’m more of an amber ale person myself, but I appreciate a man with good taste.”

Keith blushed at the awkward compliment and continued to smile nervously. Lance slid off his seat and went to the bar to save Shay a trip through the thick crowd.

“Hey,” Shay started as soon as she saw him. “Who’s the hottie?”

Pink tinged his cheeks when he looked back to the mysterious stranger fidgeting at the table. “I, uh, actually, I don’t know.”

“You didn’t ask his name?”

“Not yet…”

“Well, what do you want? I’ll get it now so you can hurry back and ask.”

“Just a refill and a porter.”

“Got it!”

“H-hey Shay?” He stopped her. “Could I also have, like, a shot?”

She sighed. “Lance, you’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, okay, but I’m _really_ out of my league here.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean, _look_ at him!”

“Lance,” She leaned across the bar. “How many times do I have to tell you, you're a total stud!”

“Don’t let Hunk hear you say that.”

She blushed. “Well, my point _is_ , you are definitely _at least_ on the same level.”

He rolled his eyes. “Please, Shay.”

She regarded him thoughtfully, but, in the end, filled a tiny glass with Lance’s favorite poison. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Me, stupid?” He smirked before throwing back the burning liquid. “I’m king of playing it safe.”

She looked at him sweetly, almost sympathetically, as she passed him their drinks. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Lance took them and took a moment to consider what she said. He truly had meant it to be sarcastic because he had always been told to slow down, think about what he’s doing. He had a problem throwing caution to the wind, but when it came to people… Did he really play it safe _too_ often?

...

Meanwhile, once Lance turned from the table to the bar, Keith frantically looked back at Shiro who sent him two thumbs up. He shrugged in question with wide eyes, and Shiro got out his phone.

**_Shiro: What’s wrong? Do you need me to save you?_ **

**_Keith: No… I just have no idea what to say! I’m making a complete fool of myself!_ **

**_Shiro: I doubt that you look like you’re getting along???_ **

**_Keith: I… think so?_ **

**_Shiro: Have you talked about the weather?_ **

**_Keith: I’m not going to talk about the fucking weather_ **

**_Shiro: Did you talk about the show?_ **

**_Keith: I already told you that’s cliche_ **

**_Shiro: What have you talked about?_ **

**_Keith: Getting drinks_ **

**_Shiro: And how did that go?_ **

**_Keith: Um… fine I guess_ **

**_Shiro: See you’re doing great. I’m here if you need me!_ **

**_Keith: WHAT? I NEED YOU NOW!!!!!_ **

He watched as he surrogate brother made a show of putting his phone away. _Asshole._ Keith rolled his eyes and looked around. At the table beside them, the people gathered around it had shots lined in front of them. Keith turned, slammed down a 10 to quell any of their protests, and threw one back. He had no idea what he just drank, but whatever it was burned his throat like hell.

**_Shiro: I SAW THAT!!_ **

**_Keith: Well if you’re not gonna help…_ **

**_Shiro: Keith, he seems like a good kid don’t scare him away_ **

**_Keith: I won’t scare him away_ **

**_Shiro: So you say but have you met drunk you?_ **

Keith rolled his eyes and flipped him a firm bird across the room; he turned around in time to see Lance return with two drinks.

“You okay?” Lance asked as he set the porter in front of him.

“Uh, Yeah.” He squeaked.

Lance smiled. “You know, you look _really_ familiar, have we met?”

“Um…” Keith furrowed his brow and studied Lance’s face. “I don’t think so.”

“Hmmm. What high school did you go to?”

“Liberty Prep.”

Lance laughed. “Yeah, okay, maybe not.”

“What’s wrong with Liberty?” He asked knowing full well that he, personally, had a list of its flaws a hundred miles long.

Lance shrugged. “Nothing, if you’re a pampered rich kid.” He mentally slapped himself. _Yeah, good job, Lance! Insult the guy you’re trying to hit on._ “No offense.”

Keith smiled. “None taken. You’re right, it’s full of pompous assholes.”

“I’m glad you’re not one of them.”

“Who said I wasn’t.” He smirked. Lance’s eyes widened. “I’m kidding.”

He sighed. “Good. I would have hated to end this lovely conversation.”

“Aw,” Keith rested his head on his hand. That extra shot was already warming his core. “You think I’m lovely?”

Lance blushed. “Um, I said the _conversation_ was lovely, but,” he gulped, “yeah, I-I suppose you are, too.”

“Hmm,” Keith smirked. “You’re pretty loverly yourself.”

“Ha. Um.” Lance’s brain was shutting down. He wasn’t used to someone being to direct with their complements. Actually, he wasn’t really used to _compliments_ at all. “Th-thanks, I guess.”

“So,” Now that the alcohol was taking care of Keith’s anxiety, he felt more compelled to keep the conversation going. “Are you from around here?”

“Umm, kinda.”

“Explain ‘kinda’.”

“Well, technically I was born in Cuba, but I've lived here as long as I can remember.”

“Ah,” Keith smiled. “That explains the Spanish.”

“Heh.” Lance rubbed his neck. “I guess.”

“Is that your first language?”

“No, I grew up with both English and Spanish, so I guess I don't really have a quote unquote first language. Are you from around here?”

Keith took a deep breath. “I suppose I also fall under the umbrella of ‘kinda’.” He shrugged. “I’m from Texas.”

Lance winced. “Oh no.”

“Don’t hate, I only lived there until I was, like, 10.”

“That’s still an entire decade of _Texas_ engraved in your soul.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why Texas gets such a bad rep.”

“Have you _been_ there?”

“I lived there??”

“Yeah, I know, that’s exactly my point.”

“What point is that?”

“I mean, you should know better than anyone that Texas,” Lance looked at him like he was about to make the mic drop. “Sux-ass.”

Keith snorted. “Wow, you got me there.”

“Glad you’re seeing things my way, _part-ner_.”

“I know we just met,” Keith looked at him dangerously, “but I will not hesitate to pour this entire beer out on your head.”

Lance threw back his head and laughed. “Okay, okay, I surrender!”

“That’s right you do.”

“So what brought you out here? I hear Texas is like another planet.” Lance put his hand over his heart dramatically. “Don’t tell me you’re an intergalactic refugee!” Keith rolled his eyes and smiled as he brought his drink to his lips. “But seriously, why move?”

“My mom died, she had family here,” _A fucking cesspool of a family that turned their back on us until it convenienced them._ “And for some God forsaken reason, my dad thought we should be closer to them.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” He shrugged. “But life’s a bitch.”

“I’ll drink to that.” They tapped their half full pints together and took a large drink.

Keith studied Lance, the way his throat moved when he drank and how smooth his skin looked under the dim lights; he hummed thoughtfully. “How long have you played?”

Lance puffed his cheeks and let out a large breath. “My uncle started teaching me when I was 4.”

“Wow, and how old are you now?”

“21.”

“17 years, huh?” Keith nodded. “Impressive.”

“What about you?”

“Oh, I only started when I was 9.”

“I meant how old- wait, you play?”

“Uh,” Shit, he didn’t mean to say that. In his mind, it was better if he hid any ties he had to the music industry because maybe that was why this guy felt like he recognized him. Perhaps an old magazine picture or somewhere online. “N-no, I just started _listening_ to music when I was 9.”

 _What?_ The thought rang loudly in each of their heads.

Lance looked at him skeptically. “Okay…”

“21.”

“What?”

“I’m 21, too.”  

“OH??” Lance smiled. “What’s your sign?”

“My what?”

“C’mon, your _sign_.”

“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You Zodiac sign?” Lance looked expectantly at Keith who just shrugged. “When’s your birthday?”

“Uhh, the end of October?”

“Really?” Lance raised an eyebrow. “It wouldn't happen to be Halloween, would it?”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“You won’t tell me the day?”

“Why do you need it?”

“I don’t, I was just curious.” _He seems a touch paranoid,_ Lance thought as he looked over him. “So, end of October makes you a Scorpio.”

“A what now?”

“A Scorpio, a water sign. It means you’re intense, driven, and love a good fight, which…” Lance gestured to the bruising make on his cheek.

Keith self consciously put his fingers to it before taking a long sip, and Lance took it as a clue not to press the topic. “So I’m intense and like to fight? I guess I can’t argue with that. What about you?”

“Well, I was born the _end_ of July which makes me a Leo, a fire symbol.” He sat up a little straighter. “I am action-oriented, love to perform, and some say I have an air royalty about me."

“I can see that already.” Keith smirked into his drink, Lance mirrored him to hide the heat in his cheeks.

“So,” Lance took a breath and leaned closer. “If you’re water and I’m fire, what do you think would happen if we came together?”

“I- I don’t know.” Keith stuttered. “I guess.. steam?”

They stared blankly at each other for a moment before they bursted out laughing.

“I really like your smile.” Keith said suddenly.

Lance froze mid chuckle and looked at him with wide eyes. _Shhhiiitttt!_ “I- I- I, um,” _What do now?_ “I like your... face?”

Keith raised his eyebrows. “My face?”

“ _Jodido infierno_.” He groaned before hiding his red face as he chugged the rest of his beer.  

Keith chuckled. “Um, thanks.”

“What happened to it?” Lance blurted out after wiping the foam from his lips. Wow, it seemed he was destined to fuck up all his words tonight. _Deja de hablar idiota! “_ I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Don’t worry about it.” Keith brought his hand to his bruise and shrugged. Lying was usually harder when alcohol was involved, but by now, lying about Zarkon’s bruises was second nature, drunk or not. “I caught some asshole trying to key by bike.”

Lance’s ears perked up. “You have a bike?”

“Maybe.”

“What kind?”

“Why?” Keith smirked deviously. “Interested in a ride?”

“Depends, are you offering to give me one sometime?”

“Sure, on one condition,” He leaned over to whisper in Lance’s ear- the influence of alcohol by now having dulled any of his inhibitions. “You give me one first.”

Lance seemed to step outside of himself in the moment. First off, nobody had _ever_ talked to him like that. Not once had he been subjected to another person’s unabashed proposition so suddenly (or ever, really), so to say that he was taken off guard would have been a dramatic understatement.

Second, all this begged the question: _What the hell do I do with that!?_ How was he supposed to respond? Sure this had never happened, and it did make him a tinge uncomfortable, but, in his mind, this guy was also, like, _way_ out of his league. So, he didn’t want to turn him away.

Plus, he wasn’t all that opposed to seeing what this guy had to offer. He’d never had sex with a stranger (not that the opportunity ever arose) and _this_ stranger was incredibly attractive.

Which brought him to the last thing: did he dare ride this road just to see where it took him? The conversation he'd had with Shay played in the back of his mind, ‘ _I'm the king of playing it safe!’..._ ‘ _That's what I'm afraid of’._

“Oh my- _fuck!_ ” The stranger started, face beat red and hidden in his hands as his drunk words finally caught up to him. “I- I didn’t mean- fuck, I can't believe I- I'm sorry, shouldn’t have said-”

“You wanna get outta here?” The words flew out of his mouth before he could do anymore thinking.

Keith looked up at him in shock then a lopsided smile slid across his face. “Hell yeah.”

...

Lance grabbed their glasses and took them to the bar as Keith crossed to room to grab his jacket.

“You’ve still got the keys to Red, right?” Keith asked as soon as he made it to the table.

“Yes,” Shiro asked skeptically. “And I plan on _keeping_ them.”

“Figured.” Keith shrugged. “I already called for an Uber.”

“Where are you going?” Shiro asked sternly.

“Home.”

“Please tell me you're going _alone_.”

“Yeah, totally.” Keith smirked.

“I told you,” Shiro crossed his arms. “I can tell when you're lying.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine, but so what?”

“ _So_ , you can't just take some guy that you just met home.”

“Why not?” Keith shrugged. “You said it yourself, he seems like a _nice_ guy.”

“Exactly,” Shiro narrowed his eyes. “People aren't just _playthings_ , Keith, I'd think you'd know that better than anyone.”

“I know, Shiro, and I'm not treating him like one.”

“Yeah?” He leaned forward. “What's his name, Keith?”

 _Shit, what_ _is_ _his name?_ “Psh.” Keith zipped his leather jacket and turned around. “I’m not gonna tell you just so you can make a point.”

“Keith!” Shiro called, but Keith promptly ignored him.

…

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Hunk eyed his friend skeptically. “Because it _really_ doesn't seem like a good idea.”

“C’mon,” Lance patted his arm. “I'll be fine! Better than fine, if you know what I mean.”

“I know what you mean,” Hunk gingerly removed his friend's hand from his skin. “And _gross_.”

“Tis nature, Hunk, the fruits of passion run freely in our veins.”

“Lance, dude, you're drunk.”

“I'm _buzzed_.”

“I’m sorry, but can't let you go, man.”

“ _What!?_ ”

“I'd be neglecting my duties as your best friend if I just let you go off with some stranger, no matter how attractive he may be.”

“Hunk,” Lance started seriously. “I'm not an idiot. You know I'm not the kind of guy to do this sort of thing, but it feels _different_ with him, ya know?”

“No, I think what ‘feels different’ is the amount of alcohol pumping through your body.”

“I _told_ you, I am not drunk, Hunk,” he barely suppressed a chuckle at the rhyme, “I've only had a few beers.”

“Shay told me about the shot you had at the bar.”

“Traitor.”

“Lance, just listen to me, okay buddy?” Hunk grabbed him by the shoulders. “It's not a good idea. Go give the nice man your number, then I'm going to drive you home.”

Lance sighed. “Yeah, you’re probably right, H. G. Dory.” He agreed halfheartedly. “I'll go find him.”

“Okay,” Hunk let him go. “I'll be right here.”

“Thanks, Hunk,” He smiled. “You're a good friend.”

“And don't you forget it!”

When Lance found Keith on the main level waiting by the door, he had _every_ intention of doing what Hunk said. He really did. Then the bastard smiled.

“You ready?”  

Lance gulped. “Yes.”

Keith’s smile grew and he pulled on Lance’s hand. “Then let's go.”

…

The further they got from the bar, the more anxiety clawed at Lance’s chest. He had _never_ done this. Ever. So, he truly, honestly had no idea what to do. Sure, he wasn’t a complete idiot, he knew that by agreeing to go to this guy’s place he was more or less agreeing to having sex with him, and he was _more_ than okay with that.

What he didn’t know was whether or not this guy was expecting to top, or vis versa. He was fine with either, but he also didn’t want to disappoint him by assuming what the guy wanted.

Also, did this guy have everything they needed? Lance would guess as much, but, of course he couldn’t be sure. In that case, would they have to go out and buy it, or would they just call the whole thing off? He hoped not.

But then, what happened when they’re done? Would he leave? Would he stay over? Would it be weird if he asked?

Though, perhaps the biggest question on his mind was this: _What if I’m not good enough? Or worse, what if he doesn’t like what he sees and sends me away?_

To Lance, that was a very real possibility. He saw Keith as someone _way_ out of his reach. He was unimpressed with his own physique, so why wouldn’t this stranger be too?

Hunk’s words came back to him as a loop in his head: _‘Are you sure this is a good idea?’_. At this point, the closer he got, the less sure he became. Maybe he should just stop everything now and go home. That at least would save him some of the mortification he was bound to feel at the end of the night.

_Maybe this was stupid. He’s probably going to take one look at me and change his mind._

“You okay?” The stranger asked thoughtfully.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Lance replied lamely.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s just,” he bowed his head bashfully, “I-I’ve never really done _this_ before.”

“Ya know,” Keith smiled gently. “You don’t _have_ to do anything. I won’t be offended if you want to go home.”

“What? _No_ !” Lance straightened up and shook a hand in front of his face. “I definitely _want_ to, I just-”

“You just?”

He took a deep breath and forced a smirk. _When in doubt, fake it._ “I just _really_ hope you’re interested in astronomy.”

Keith furrowed his brow. “Why?”

“Well,” Lance leaned closer and wiggled his eyebrows. “Because I’m gonna make you see stars tonight.”

That had to be simultaneously the worst and the best pick up line Keith had ever heard. He honestly couldn’t tell if he wanted to hit the guy or fuck him right there. As it was, however, he seemed to be stuck somewhere between rolling his eyes and doing everything in his power to keep the blood in his [ _face_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xat1GVnl8-k).

And that shade pink on those usually pale cheeks definitely helped Lance regain some of his confidence.

“Uhhh…” _Holy Mother of God,_ Keith thought frantically, _what do I can say to that?_ Luckily, he didn’t have to think of anything as the car came to a halt outside a tall brick building, and, once again, Keith pulled roughly on Lance’s hand.

This needed to happen, and the flush of his body was telling him it needed to happen _now_. The elevator’s doors weren’t even completely open before Keith was pushing Lance inside and up against the wall. He was fortunate nobody was there, but he wouldn’t have cared either way.

Lance’s heart was pounding as Keith’s hands slid from his hips to the small of his back, holding him close as he pressed him into the cold steel walls. Lance’s hand found it’s way into Keith’s raven hair to pull him into an open mouthed kiss.

It was electrifying, the way their lips, their tongues, their bodies moved against each other; their skin burned whenever it touched. Lance couldn’t help but think that if it was this intense _now_ , what was it going to be like when there were no clothes between them?

The elevator rang when they got to his floor, and Keith pulled him out by his hips. They broke their kiss so that Keith could lead Lance by the waistband of his jeans. He threw his door open and immediately threw off his jacket and began peeling off his shoes.

Lance followed his lead, tripping over himself when he started on his tennis shoes. As he did, he couldn’t help looking around the apartment he could already tell he wouldn’t have been able to afford on his own.

“Nice place you’ve got here.” Then there were cool hands on his hips, turning him into a hot body.

“Thanks.” Keith mumbled into his mouth before slipping his tongue inside. Lance moaned into the kiss and pulled him as he took a step back. Why he thought that was a good idea, he would never know because he didn’t know about the small lip in the floor at his heel, and Keith barely caught him before they both went tumbling down. “Whoa, you alright there?”

Lance laughed breathlessly as he regained his footing. “Yeah, thanks for warning me, asshole.”

“Sorry,” he snaked his hand beneath Lance’s shirt- trailing his cold fingers up his torso, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “But you were distracting me.”

Lance let him pull his shirt over his head and watched as Keith carelessly threw it away before recapturing his mouth. There was a tug on his pants pulling him into a small room off the main one. Lance hissed as Keith moved his mouth to his neck while his nimble fingers made quick work of undoing the button and zipper, and slid inside. Keith roughly pushed the jeans down his legs so Lance could awkwardly step out of them.

While he did, Keith worked on pulling his own shirt over his head before reclaiming his hold on Lance’s hot body. He gasped as Keith’s hand timidly moved over his rigid cock through the thin fabric of his boxers.

“Mm,” Keith started lowly in Lance’s ear. “Big boy, huh?” He pulled the lobe of his ears between his teeth.

 _This is not fair_ , Lance thought as felt himself becoming putty in a stranger’s hands. He tangled his fingers in Keith’s hair and tugged back for access to that long neck. Keith was taken off guard when Lance pushed him back on the bed and loomed over him. He slid his knee between his legs as his hands began moving up to his chest slowly until he was able to roll a thumb over a pert nipple.

Keith’s back arched into him and he took the opportunity to pull on the waistband of his dark jeans. Keith moaned and hands curled into Lance’s back as he was freed from the restrictions of the rough fabric. He couldn't help his nails digging into Lance’s skin.

“ _F-uck._ ” Lance groaned as he rolled his hips into Keith’s. He dropped his head again, continuing to mark the smooth skin beneath Keith’s jaw.

“I didn't know a stranger could be so _responsive_.” Keith mumbled into his ear.

At that Lance pushed off him just enough to look into his eyes. “Lance.”

“What?”

He smiled hesitantly. “My name’s Lance.”

“O-oh.”

“I, uh, just figured that,” He gulped nervously. Maybe this guy didn't _want_ his name. “Y-you- I mean, I just thought that it’d be better if we weren't complete strangers, so…”

“Keith.” He smiled. Something clicked in the back of Lance’s mind and he looked down at him indiscernibly. “What? Is something wrong?”

“Not, like _,_ ” He croaked. “ _K-Kogane?_ ”

Keith eyed him suspiciously. “Why?”

“ _Ah_ !” He flew away from the bed like it was a hot flame. “I fucking _knew_ I recognized you!”

Keith pushed himself up to lean on his elbows. “ _How_ do you recognize me?” His tone was serious and full of warning. “You workin for Zarkon?”

“Who?”

“Don't play dumb with me.”

“I’m not playing!”

“So, you're just _dumb_?”

“You really don't recognize _me_?”

Keith studied him a moment before shaking his head. “No.”

“C’mon, it's me!” Lance touched his chest. Keith shrugged. “ _Lance McClain_!”

He sat up fully. “Is that supposed to _mean_ something to me?”

Lance groaned and pulled on his roots. “ _Seriously_!?”

“What?” Keith got up with his pants still awkwardly pulled halfway down his thighs. “Do you want me to apologize for not knowing who the fuck you are? We haven't had sex before, have we?”

“ _What!?_ ” Lance crossed his arms over his chest embarrassed. “ _N-no_!”

“Good,” He smirked. “Because I would curse myself for not remembering all,” He gave Lance a good once over. “ _This_.”

Lance’s body grew hot under his gaze. “Sh-shut up, you asshole!”

“What, _Lance_?” Keith took a step closer. “Please tell me what I need to apologize for,” he reached out and grabbed Lance’s hips. “So we can pick up where we left off.”

Lance jerked back. “God,” he scooped up his jeans as he left the room. “You're unbelievable.”

“Hey!” Keith stormed after him. “What the fuck is your problem?”

Lance was shimmying into his pants when he grimaced. “ _You’re_ my problem.”

“What does that even mean!?”

He had his shirt held tightly in his hand and his pants weren't yet buttoned when he stomped over and pushed Keith in the center of his chest with a finger.

“It _means_ ,” He started between clenched teeth. “We should just forget _any_ of this _ever_ happened.”

“Fine!” Keith pushed his hand away. “Consider it forgotten, _Lance McCl-_ ” His eyes widened a moment before narrowing dangerously. “ _Lance Motherfucking McClain._ ”

“Oh?” He smirked. “Remember me _now_?”

“Remember you?” Keith scoffed. “You broke my nose.”

Lance smirked proudly. “You deserved it.”

“Here,” Keith snarled before he turned away. “Let me get the door for you.”

“Oh,” He started as it swung open. “How _kind_ of you.”

The hall echoed as the door slammed behind him. When he got into the elevator, there was a little old lady who looked absolutely mortified. He finished fastening his jeans and pulled his shirt over his head without even caring that it was backward. Lance pulled out his phone as he stepped outside. The crisp air hit him hard and he realized he’d left his blue button down upstairs.

 _Shit._ He groaned to himself as the phone rang in his ear.

_“LANCE, WHAT THE HELL!?”_

“Hey, um… remember when you said going home with a stranger was a bad idea?”

There was a heavy sigh on the other end. _“Where are you, buddy?”_

Lance gave him the cross streets and sat on the curb to await his friend’s arrival. A handful of minutes later, Hunk’s yellow monster of an SUV pulled up.

“Hey.” Lance started as he slid in the passenger seat.

Hunk looked at him sympathetically. “Do you want me to go kick his ass?”

Lance snorted. “Nah, but thanks.”

They pulled away without a word. After a few minutes passed Hunk looked at his friend curled up and looking out the window. “Wanna talk about it?”

Lance let out a deep breath. “Not particularly.”

“You didn't, um,” He cut himself off hesitantly. “Like… uh-”

“Have sex?” Lance finished for him and took a small amusement from Hunk’s uncomfortable shiver. “No, thank God.”

Hunk let out a sigh of relief. “That's a relief.”

“Heh. Yeah.” Lance’s face fell. “Right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, they might not have done it like 'they do on the Discovery Channel', but they were close and it set the stage for what's to come.  
> Heh.  
> Stage.  
> Heh.  
> Band humor.  
> Okay, I'm done.


	4. S&P

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I feel like we're missing a Paladin...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! Sorry this update took so long, but, alas, life must happen. Anyway, I hope it was worth the wait.

_ Keith Kogane- revered, admired, loathed- stood at the front of the class, after a week of being absent, looking almost as awful as Lance didn’t know he felt. He had deep, dark purple circles under his sunken, red eyes. With his shoulders slumped and head bowed, he looked almost defeated; not at all like the cool confident boy Lance had grown to hate, this boy was broken, dangerously so. Even from where Lance sat in the back of the class, he could tell that Keith’s entire body was coiled like a snake ready to strike at whoever got too close; and Lance sure as hell didn’t plan on being that person. _

_ “Is there anyone that doesn’t already have a partner for the fair at the end of the year?”  _ _ Oh quiznak _ _. Lance waited, desperately hoping another partnerless student would magically appear, but none did and he found himself being stared at from over the top of their teacher’s square glasses. Lance sighed in defeat and rose a shaky hand. “Thank you Lance.” It took all his strength not to make a snide remark about not having a choice, but he was already on bad terms with this teacher. “Mister Kogane, please take a seat by Mister McClain.” _

_ Keith hiked his backpack higher on his shoulder and made his way to the back of the small room. Lance flinched when he dropped into the chair at his side, but he didn’t notice. His unseeing gaze was transfixed at the front of the room. Lance studied him carefully, from the deep furrow of his brow to the hollowness in his eyes to his chapped lips drawn in a tight frown. _

_ What happened to you? _

…

“Earth to fuckboi!” A blur of chewed off, green painted fingernails waved in front of Lance’s face. “You with me?”

“Huh?” Lance shook his head. The cold grey room and small strawberry blonde with round glasses swam back into focus.  _ Different classroom, different partner. Get it together McClain.  _ “Sorry, I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Neither did I,” the girl scolded unsympathetically. “But you don’t see me staring off into space and making  _ you  _ do all the legwork. You know, I don’t  _ have  _ to help you.”

Lance felt one part guilt and two parts annoyed. It wasn’t like he was zoning out on purpose, he just had a lot on his mind. Well, a lot of  _ one  _ person on his mind. “Geeze, what are we even doing?”

She rolled her eyes. “Studying for our history test.”

“ _ Why _ are you helping me again?”

“Because you need a tutor, and I was stupid enough to volunteer my time in the student resource center on a Sunday evening.”

“Yeah, but if you’re going to be so mean, I can find someone else.”

“We’re in the same class, so you should be  _ begging  _ for my help.” Lance didn’t respond, so she got to her feet and started gathering her things. “Okay,” she snorted, “Good luck finding somebody this late in the game.”

“Wait,” Lance croaked pathetically.

She turned with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. “Yes?”

He sighed. “Could you stay?”

“Man, my hearing must be getting bad because I didn't hear an apology in there.”

Lance glared at her. “Sorry.”

“One more time,” She held her hand to her ear. “But all together now…”

“Katie,” he started slowly, “It is Katie, right?”

She watched him and crossed her arms nonchalantly. “Legally.”

“Okay, well,” He leaned forward. “Katie, I need your help, you  _ know  _ I need your help, and I've already apologized, so could you  _ not  _ make me beg?” 

She studied him for a moment. “Nope.”

Lance’s mouth fell open. “What?”

“I said ‘nope’.” She shrugged. “I want more groveling before I agree to help.”

“Why?”

“Because I'm mean and it makes me feel superior.”

“What if I bought you coffee instead?”

“What kind of coffee?”

“Whatever you want.”

She smiled slyly. “Now you're speaking my language.”

They kept their things in the small study room and ventured to the cafe in the front of the library.

“What can I getcha?” the barista asked with a bubbly smile.

“Well, hey there.” Lance started with a grinned, leaning toward the girl on the counter. “I just want a small spiced chai please, and whatever this little demon wants.”

“Is there a name with that spiced chai?”

“Lance,” he smiled.

“That's a nice name.”

His eyes flashed to the name tag pinned to her apron. “So’s Hannah.”

She giggled, but before they could continue the exchange, Lance’s new tutor pushed him aside as she stepped up to the counter. “Could I please have a large blended coffee with two pumps each of white and regular mocha, an extra shot of espresso blended in, java chips, whole milk if you have it, please, and,” she paused to look seriously at the barista who was still trying to write everything on the cup. “Could I have some of the sprinkles you use on the cupcakes in there as well?”

“Ummm, sure I guess.”

“Sweet!”

“Whipped cream?”

“As much as you can pile on.”

“Name?”

“Pidge.”

“Pidge?”

“Yup, P-I-D-G-E.”

The barista gave her an affirmative nod and set the cup aside. “That’ll be $15.76.”

Lance stared at the girl with his mouth agape and she just shrugged innocently. “You said whatever I want.”

“Fine.” He handed Hannah his card with a sweet smile. “Here you go, beautiful.”

She blushed when she handed it back and began on their drinks.

“Oh God,” Pidge groaned, “Would you  _ stop  _ ?”

“Hey,” Lance turned to her. “I bought your coffee, I don't need, nor do I  _ want  _ your commentary.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever, just so long as you're not harassing the poor girl.”

“I would never harr- hello!” Hannah had returned to the counter with both drinks in her hands.

“Um, Hi? A-again.”

“Can I just say that you have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen, but I'm sure you get that a  _ latte  _ .”

She giggled awkwardly, clearly oblivious to the pun and began twirling her hair. “Well… here are your drinks, Pidge.”

Pidge took the drink from her outstretched hand. “Thank you.”

“And,” she smiled bashfully. “ _ Lance _ .”

“Thanks.” He sent her a wink and her cheeks grew pink again.

“C’mon, Romeo.” Pidge grabbed Lance by his shirt and dragged him away from the counter. “Library closes in a few hours and we’ve got a  _ latte  _ work to do.”

“Katie.” Lance pulled out of her hand once they were out of the cafe and looked down at her. “What the hell!?”

“What?” She shrugged. “I don't have all night to watch you get a date. Besides,” she turned with her straw in her mouth. “Won’t your girlfriend be upset?”

“Girlfriend?”

“Or boyfriend.” She shrugged. “Or whoever it was that gave you that loud and proud purple hickey.”

Lance’s face turned red as he brought a hand up to cup his neck. “It's not- he’s not my-  _ no  _ .”

“Oh, my mistake then.” Pidge took another slurp of her drink. “Either way, she gave you her number, so just call her later.”

Lance frantically twisted his cup around to find a 10 digit number scrawled in curly handwriting. Man, he was on a  _ roll  _ with the hotties! First, the incredibly attractive stranger he successfully picked up in the bar, and now this beautiful girl in a cafe. Sure, that stranger turned out to be a long lost rival, but he still counted it since he didn't know who Keith was until after he’d already ‘picked him up’. Luckily, he didn't have any other arch nemeses, so going out with Hannah wouldn’t turn out the same way.

_ Unless it's really just Keith in a wig.  _ He groaned out loud at his inner voice. Why did he have to think something like that? Now he couldn't stop picturing it, and it was terrifying.

_ Nope. No. Na-uh. Noooooo!  _ He suddenly got a very clear image of Keith in nothing but the barista’s apron, licking whipped cream off his finger.  _ Stop thinking about it! _

“ _ Dude _ !” Pidge called in front of him. 

_ Oh thank God  _ . Her voice called him out of whatever twisted daydream had started forming in his mind.  

“Seriously, if you're not in here in 5 seconds, I'm leaving and taking my bag of knowledge  _ and  _ my sugary drink with me!”

Lance shook his head and followed her back into their study room. They spent the last few library hours going over everything he zoned out of in class, which turned out to actually be a lot. His new tutor was more patient than he had expected while they went through the material, though, not without a sarcastic comment beforehand. It was okay, though, after all the hours he could have put to use  _ not  _ failing the class, Lance figured he deserved it. Assuming they could keep up with studying two or more days this week, he at least had a chance on the test; if they kept it up, maybe even the midterm.

“So,” he started just as they were beginning to pack up, “Pidge, huh?”

She looked up from her notes to eye him skeptically. “Yeah…?”

“Is that, like, what your friends call you?”

“It is indeed.” She replied blankly and continued organizing her work before packing it away. “At least they would if I had any friends.”

“In that case,” Lance started with a smile, “I guess I should start calling you that, too.”

“That'd imply that we were friends,” she deadpanned.

“We  _ are  _ friends!”

“We share a history class and I'm tutoring you,” she started warily, “How does that equate to friendship?”

“Well,” He scratched his head. “The way I see it, both of those are really good reasons that we  _ should  _ be. I mean, since we’ll be seeing so much of each other, might as well, right?”

Pidge studied him carefully. “Why do you want to be friends anyway?”

“I don’t know,” Lance shrugged, “Because you seem like you're pretty cool. Also Pidge is an awesome nickname and I would like to be able to call you that.”

“Um…” She blinked slowly. “Okay, sure, whatever.”

“Wait, so we're pals?”

She shrugged. “Like you said, we might as well be.”

“Alright! Sparrow and Pidge, kicking tests and taking notes!”

“Sparrow?”

“It's a nickname I gave myself just now,” Lance started smugly, “What do you think?”

“I think I change my mind about being friends.”

“Wha- you can’t just change your mind like that!”

“Tell ya what,” Pidge started seriously, leaning across the table, “If you actually stay awake in class tomorrow, I’ll consider your friendship, but for now let’s make a plan to meet here… when works best for you?”

Lance shrugged and finished zipping his backpack. “My schedule at work is pretty consistent, I have Wednesdays and Sundays off, Mondays and Fridays I work before class, otherwise I’m usually off by 9.”

“Hm.” She pulled out her phone and loaded her calendar. “Thursday would be best, say, whenever you’re off?”

“No good, my brother and his wife are coming to town.”

“That’s cool.” Pidge side glanced him. “That is cool, right?”

“Yeah...” Lance drew out in a heavy breath. “It’ll be nice to see them.”

“Where are they coming in from?”

“Tucson.”

“That’s not too far. I wish my brother was close enough to drive up for a weekend.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s with my dad in Texas.”

“Oh my God,  _ why _ ?” Lance flinched back.  _ What the fuck is with Texas!?  _ “You’re not, like,  _ from  _ there, r-right?”

“Ew, no.” Something like disgust crossed her face.

Lance sighed in relief, “gracias a Dios.” 

“¿yo se, che?” Pidge nodded in agreement. “pero mi padre y hermano trabajan en el Centro Espacial Johnson que es realmente súper impresionante.” Lance looked at her completely stunned. “casi hace que vivir allí vale la pena.”

“¿tu hablas español?”

“si.” She blinked. “desde que tenía cinco.”

“Oh, we are  _ definitely  _ friends now, Pidge.”

“We’ll see.” She smirked. “If you can’t do Thursday, then what about Wednesday after class?”

He winced. “I have rehearsals on Wednesdays. Friday?”

“Can’t,” she sighed. “I’m working a show.”

“What kind of show is it?”

“Ummm,” She screwed up her face and thought. “I’m pretty sure it's just a couple new names. I don’t remember what band is headlining.”

Lance stopped dead in his tracks. When he heard ‘show’ he’d assumed theatre, but, “Did you say ‘ _new names_ _headlining_ ’?”

“Yeah…” She eyed him skeptically. “I help man the soundboard for  _ The Garrison  _ .”

“Seriously!?” Lance gaped at her. “This friendship has been written in the heavens!”

“What makes you say that?”

“I'm  _ in  _ a band!”

Pidge nodded thoughtfully. “So that’s what you meant by rehearsal.”

“Dude, you have  _ got  _ to tell me more about that!”

“About what?”

“About working shows! Who have you soundboarded for? What were they like?” Lance furrowed his brow. "Is soundboarded a word?"

"Nope." She shook her head. "And, ummm, I can’t really think of anyone right now…”

“Then tell me you’ll tell me when you remember then tell me all about it!”

She looked at him thoughtfully and smiled.  _ He’s like a hyper excited puppy  _ . “Deal. But all that being said, weekends are less than desirable….” She sighed. “I don’t know when else we’d be able to meet before the test.”

“Wednesday’s okay, I guess.” Lance shrugged. “Just as long as you’re okay with meeting up at my place.”

“Hmm, will there be video games?”

“I thought the point was to study.”

“Yeah but,” Pidge started, holding the door for him, “If you have video games, I don’t mind waiting for your  _ rehearsal  _ thing to end.”

“What do you play?”

“What do you have?”

“For which system?”

“ _ Okay _ ,” She tilted her chin in approval as they stepped into the chilled night air. “I'm starting to see how this whole ‘friend’ thing could work out.”

Lance smiled widely. “So Wednesday?”

“Yuppers.” Pidge waved as she walked through the parking lot beside the library. “See ya, Sparrow!”

Lance smiled enthusiastically. “Night Pidge! And don't forget to remember everyone you’ve soundboarded for!”

“Ha, I'll try.” She called back before getting in her bright green two door Honda Civic. Lance felt a small pang in his heart. He missed his car. Blue was fixed, but the shop she was at wasn’t open on Sundays, so, he had to wait until the morning to pick her up. Oh well, it wasn't as though riding a bike through the city after midnight was like, super sketchy or anything. At least the chilled air pricking his exposed skin kept him awake and alert to his surroundings.  

He got home quarter past one, the door creaked loudly as he entered, but Hunk was a heavy sleeper so he wasn't concerned. Lance had been staying at his parents’ for the past week to celebrate all the family birthdays this month (there were a few), and that was all nice, but boy was he glad to be home. His family could be a little… much. It was nice to have some room to breathe, besides he was scheduled to be back for dinner Thursday when José and Terria were in town. That alone was going to be a fun reunion.

They got along alright, but José was definitely the stereotypical successful and incredibly pretentious eldest son (even though he was not even the oldest). Lance was used to fading into the background whenever he, or really any of his siblings- except for Nina- were around, the problem now was that he wasn't able to fade away as much anymore. Instead, he felt like he was in the spotlight and they were all examining him.

_ What are you doing now? Are you  _ _ still  _ _ in school? Why aren't you seeing anyone? Maybe if you stopped with that whole _ _ music thing _ _ … _

Yeah, José had a way of bringing all Lance’s flaws up in almost every conversation. He didn't know the answers to any of the questions he knew his brother was going to throw at him, except that no matter what, he wasn’t going to back down from defending his music. It was the one thing he never stopped- never would stop- defending. It was all he had that was  _ his _ , and to a boy that was always overshadowed, that was  _ everything  _ .

Luckily, his other siblings agreed that José was kind of a dick. Still, it sucked having his own insecurities poked and prodded at.

“Hey, Momo.” He greeted the brown and white teddy bear hamster on his dresser. The small rodent poked his head out of his burrow as a sort of response, then disappeared back into it. Lance took a deep breath and fell back onto his bed. This whole week had been a complete shit show, and the one coming up promised to be slightly less awful as long as he doesn’t see a particular greasy mullet around. The bruise on the crook of his neck throbbed when he turned his head. Lance groaned into his pillow and seriously considered trying to smother himself with it. The thought of what happened- of what  _ almost  _ happened- was mortifying. He really, truly never went home with someone he just met, and to be so easily seduced into doing so, then finding out he was actually the kid he spent a good portion of both junior and high school hating, plummeted his self-esteem.

_ Of course  _ the one time he’s able to catch the eye of a total hottie, it backfires. It was further proof in his mind that his love life was cursed, which was truly an awe inspiring thing to drift out of consciousness to.

…

Lance woke to a sliver of sunlight peaking through his curtains and the sound of Momo running enthusiastically in his wheel. He started most of his mornings bright and early, and, to many people’s surprise, he didn’t really hate it. There was a peace in the early hours of the day that he looked forward to clear his mind. It was therapeutic, really, and entirely practical given how long it actually took him to get ready for the day. Plus, since Hunk enjoyed sleeping until late mornings whenever he could help it, Lance got all the hot water to himself.

He got to his feet, stretched, and immediately started down the stairs into the kitchen to put the coffee on so that it would be done by the time he was showered, dressed, and ready for the day. He was planning on following it up with eating cereal on the couch until Hunk grumbled his way over to join him with a large cup of coffee- it was all a part of his morning routine. So, as he stepped into the steamy shower, he was far from expecting the echoing knock on their front door.

There was no response, so Shay tried knocking again, this time a little harder. Still she was only greeted with silence. She pulled out her phone to try the number on her call history one more time.

_ “Ullo?  _ ” Hunk’s lethargic voice answered just before she was about to hang up.

“Hunk?” She started. “This is Shay, and I-”

“ _ Shay?  _ ”

“Yes, and I am so sorry to call you so early, but…” She knocked on the cool wood once more. “I’m outside of your-”

“ _ Outside? Here? _ ”

“Well, if you’re inside your house, then yes.”

“ _ Oh, um… Give me a second and I’ll let you in. _ ”

Shay hung up and waited patiently, twisting her fingers in the bottom of her shirt. The door in front of her swung open to reveal a very tired looking Hunk in shorts and a bright green tee shirt. His exhaustion was painted clearly in his expression, but she didn’t comment on it. Instead, she beamed up at him. “Good morning!”

“Um, you too, h-have a good, I mean,” He shook his head. “Good morning, Shay.”

She could feel her cheeks heat up as he beckoned her inside. “I’m sorry to wake you.”

“Nah,” Hunk waved his hand after he closed the door behind her. “I was already up.”

She smiled. “Were you?”

“Yeah,” He straightened up. “I’m a  _ pretty  _ early riser.”

She giggled. “Oh, somehow I’m not sure I believe that.”

“Why? What have you heard.”

“Nothing, but,” She smiled as she stepped closer to tug on his tee. “Your shirt  _ is  _ on inside-out.”

“Heh. Heh.” Hunk rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess you caught me. Did you want some coffee or anything?” he asked on his way to the kitchen. “Lance usually has a pot going by now.”

“Oh,” Shay found herself following him. “No, but thank you.”

After grabbing a rather large mug and swallowing some of his nerves, Hunk looked at her over his shoulder. “So… what brings you to this part of the city?”

“Yes, I almost forgot.” She blushed as she began searching through her purse.

Hunk was finishing up creaming his coffee when she pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. “What’s that?”

“Well,” Shay began trying to smooth it out. “Apparently a funny man with a big orange mustache came in last night and asked if he could drop off a ton of these flyers, and, well,” she held it out to him and he took it slowly. “I thought of you.”

Hunk slowly set down his mug as his wide eyes roamed over the paper.

**_Battle of the Bands_ **

**_Grand Prize:_ **

**_$10,000 Cash & Single Album Contract with Altea Studio_ **

**_Prizes Available for 1st and 2nd Runner Ups_ **

**_Competition Dates as Follows:_ **

**_Round 1: 4/25_ **

**_Round 2: 5/22_**

**_Final Round: 7/3_ **

**_Bands Must Have 4+ members to be eligible_ **

**_Registration Opens 9AM 2/17 and are Due by 5PM 3/17_ **

**_Visit Our Website for More Details_ **

Hunk’s mouth opened and closed noiselessly.

“So..” Shay started cautiously, “What do you think?”

He didn’t respond, but sped past her up the stairs, and barged right into the steam filled bathroom.

“Dude!” He called over the streaming water.

Lance popped his head out of the curtain with suds glistening on the top of his chocolate hair. “The hell, Hunk!?”

“DUDE!” He repeated louder.

“Yes,  _ WHAT _ ?”

All of a sudden there was a flyer in Lance’s face. He had to lean back to read it, then, just to be sure he read it right, he snatched it from Hunk’s hand and brought it closer. “ _ Holy shit  _ .”

“Hey,” Hunk pulled back the curtain. “Don’t get it all wet!”

“Um, Hunk?” Shay asked, peaking her head around the door. Her eyes widened as both boys looked at her, one of whom was still very much wet and naked. “Oh.”

“ _ Fuck  _ .” Lance quickly pulled the curtains closed as Hunk turned on his heel. Shay stood facing the opposite wall with flaming red cheeks.

“I-I am  _ so  _ sorry.”

“Don't worry ab-” Lance’s voice got cut off by the click of the bathroom door.

“Ummm…” Hunk shifted uncomfortably. “I think if anyone should be sorry here it should be Lance.”

“HEY!” His voice hardly carried through the door.

“No no,” Shay waved her hands, slowly turning back around. “I shouldn't have followed you up here.”

“It’s a-” Hunk laughed nervously. “Yeah… but, um-”

“Shay,” Lance threw open the door with a towel securely wrapped around his waist. “Thank you for rushing over here to tell us about this!”

She turned a deeper shade of scarlet and Hunk took a deep breath before practically tossing him in his room down the little hall. “Get dressed!”

“Sheesh!” Lance still had the crumpled paper in his hand. He delicately placed it on his desk and carefully smoothed out the creases. His heart fluttered as he read and reread it. This was it. This was the opportunity they'd been waiting for.

_ Except,  _ Lance thought as his stomach dropped.  _ Where are we going to find two more people? _

The furry creature on his dresser cocked its head curiously and watched as Lance shook cool droplets from his hair. Lance smiled. “You wouldn’t happen to want to join a band, would you, Momo?”

 


	5. Fashion Killa

_“Dude,” Keith’s new science fair partner started cautiously. “Any chance you could, like, actually_ _read_ _the printouts I gave you?”_

 _“Why?” Keith sneered. “I don't really care_ _what_ _we do, just as long as I can slap my name on it.”_

_“You’re not even going to help?”_

_He shrugged, “Were you expecting me to?”_

_“Look,” The kid leaned closer, “_ _Keith_ _, I'm nobody's meal ticket, so unless you want to put together a project all on your own, you’re gonna need to put in some work.”_

_Keith took his feet off the desk top to lean in aswell. “Don't pretend like you don’t need me just as much for this stupid fair.”_

_“I_ _don’t_ _. I already thought I was doing everything on my own, but I'm willing to work together so you don't have to be without a partner.”_

_Keith narrowed his eyes, “What was your name again?”_

_“Lance,” The kid drawled offensively._

_Keith searched his face in consideration before hissing through gritted teeth. "Fine,_ _Lance_ _.”_

_Lance sat back with a smug smile on his face. “So, read what I gave you and tell me what you think you want to focus on.”_

_“Then give me your number.”_

_Lance’s face lost all color. “W-what?”_

_“Your number.” Keith repeated flatly. “So I can just text you my thoughts.”_

_“O-oh, well,” he started madly fidgeting with the end of his pen cap._

_Keith furrowed his brow._ _ What’s this kid’s deal? _ _“Is that a problem?”_

_“Of course not!” Lance started defensively. “I don’t know why you can't just tell me at school.”_

_Keith was now resting an elbow on top of their desk and looking at Lance with annoyance. “Because texting will be easier?”_

_“I guess...” The bell rang loudly and the class around them began packing up._

_“Here,” Keith grabbed Lance’s hand, missing the color which flooded his face, and scribbled onto his skin. “Text me so I have your number.”_

_Then Keith was on his feet and pulling his bag on his shoulder as he walked away. He stalled a moment in the doorway to look back at Lance who was intently studying Keith’s slanted handwriting._

_ Huh, _ _Keith thought curiously,_ _ he’s kinda cute when he's flustered. _

...

“Fucking ass.” Keith groaned to his own reflection as he tilted his chin up to inspect the nice purple hickies he'd gotten the other night. Lance sure did do a good job on marking him up. Their deep color had already outlasted the one Zarkon put on his cheek, and that was bad because Keith hated wearing any shirt completely buttoned up. Yet there he was in a dark blue shirt with its collar closely fastened to his neck. He felt suffocated.

Shiro had given him hell the next morning when he’d stopped by to get his bike. He droned on and on about why picking up a stranger and taking him home was irresponsible.

He listed, sparing no detail, every kind of STD Keith could have been exposed to, and what might have happened if he were a psychopath. Then, not pausing for even the smallest of breaths, he went on about what kind of a person that made Keith- someone who just uses people, and was that _really_ the kind of person he wanted to be?

Keith had to snap at him for a chance to surprise him with the news that they _didn't_ in fact do anything more than makeout (aggressively and it would have progressed easily but he didn't need to know that).

Shiro’s relief was obvious, but so was his concern. The strained tone of Keith’s voice and the tightness with which he held his crossed arms to his body told Shiro that there more to the story than Keith was divulging. But he didn't press it. Keith would come to him in his own time. Maybe. He hoped so.

The drip of coffee brewing and his continuous groaning acted as the soundtrack to Keith’s morning. Heavy emphasis on the latter since it was a Monday, then sprinkle in some spurts of cursing to deal with how buttoned up his shirt had to be, and the forecast was cloudy with a chance of angry outbursts.

The commute took an obnoxiously short amount of time, and before he knew it, Red had been parked and he was walking through the slick glass doors of Galra Records. It wasn’t the tallest building in the city, but it was perhaps the slickest. Cool black metal and glass curved off the large square toward the sky. There was a large fountain in front as if that would make it all more welcoming, but the way the skyscraper slightly loomed overhead just made it that much more ominous. At least, that was the way Keith saw it, then again, he did have a justified bias against the whole corporation.

He didn't greet anyone as he walked through the building, just kept his head down and went straight for his little corner in the budgeting offices on the third floor. The two accountants treated him as an eyesore 90% of the time, but the other 10%, they would act sickeningly sweet just because he was the boss’s nephew. Either way, Keith ignored them, and sat at his tiny desk with his headphones on.

By most people’s standards, his job sucked, but most people haven’t had to ghost produce Haggar’s songs. At least being stuck behind the tiny desk- that he was almost certain Zarkon had put in just for him- kept him pretty much isolated. Even the other half of his job as janitor, was not at all bad. Keith was pretty sure his uncle meant both jobs as punishment for refusing to write for Lotor, but, honestly, keeping him in a dark corner away from people was one of, if not _the_ nicest thing he’d ever done.

Sure the pay was absolute shit, but it was just enough to get by. Besides, since he was essentially trapped there for an indiscernible amount of time, it was better than nothing. To be honest, though, it kinda always sucked, no matter what his job was.

Luckily, Shiro had forced Keith to start a savings account before being kicked out 6 months before turning 17, so at least he didn't have to worry too much about making rent… for now.

He was halfway through the second page of the copyright he was working on when he realized what playlist he was humming along with. He instantly unplugged his headphones as if they were on fire, and stared at the dim reflection on his phone with a look of utter betrayal.

Why in the everloving _hell_ was he listening to the songs Lance had done covers for?

Well, that would have been because, despite Keith’s best efforts, he'd hardly stopped thinking about the guy since the whole thing happened. His cocky smile, his soft skin, the heat of his kiss, but, mostly, Keith couldn't get the sweet sound of his voice out of his head. It was awful. Things had been going so well, why did the tall dark and so so handsome stranger _have_ to turn out to be Bossy-Over Dramatic-Completely Oblivious-And All Around Annoying- Lance McClain?

It made having his honey rich voice ringing in his ear so much more agonizing, which was another thing, what gave the bastard the right to be so talented?

Did Lance _have_ to do covers of _his_ songs so well that Keith actually started to remember why he wrote them in the first place?

Keith groaned loudly and buried his head in his arms on the surface of the desk.

“Um,” a deep voice started in the doorway, “Keith?”

He, hardly able to hold back another groan, didn't bother lifting his head; he knew that wall of muscle’s voice anywhere. “What, Shiro?”

With his face still buried in his arms, he couldn't see the man cocking his head curiously. “You alright there, buddy?”

“No,” Keith deadpanned, “I'm working.”

Shiro sighed heavily and shook his head. “Keith, do you want to get some lunch? My treat.”

He sat up enough to glare, “What _kind_ of lunch, Mister Sushi?”

“You don’t _have_ to eat sushi.”

“I don't wanna go anywhere _with_ fish.”

Shiro laughed, “Fine, we’ll go somewhere else, just get up before I change my mind.”

Keith got to his feet and silently followed. They walked through the sterile looking steel and glass hallways, passing editing and writing rooms as they went, and Keith couldn’t help but hold his breath until they were outside. Not that that would really have saved him from Zarkon had he passed them by, but, for whatever reason, it seemed to help.

“So,” Shiro started once they were a safe distance from the looming building and all of its invisible ears, “you wanna tell me what’s wrong?”

Keith’s shoulders slumped as he shrugged. “Everything.”

“Really, Keith? Don’t you think that’s a bit dramatic.” He patted his back. “C’mon, tell me what’s on your mind.”

“It's nothing, Shiro, don't worry about it.”

“Is it about Zarkon?” Keith didn’t answer, so Shiro pressed on. “Your love life?”

Keith snorted, “We both know I don’t _have_ love life.”

“Yeah,” Shiro smiled slyly, “and that’s why you’ve been so distracted lately.”

“What do you mean _distracted_?”

“It’s written all over your face, something’s on your mind,” he bumped into Keith’s shoulder as they walked, “or _someone_?”

Keith looked away as pink tinged his cheeks. “Nothing’s _on my mind_.”

“Is it that kid from the other night?”

His body tensed reflexively as Keith grimaced, and it didn't go unnoticed. “No. Why would it be?”

Shiro shook his head. _He’s such a bad liar._ “I don't know, you tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Keith.”

“Shiro.”

“I’m just going to keep asking.”

“And I’ll keep ignoring you.”

“Are you thinking about him?”

“No.”

“You can’t lie to me.”

“I am not lying.”

“Yes you are.”

“Shut up.”

“Just tell me.”

“Shiro…”

“Tell me what’s been bothering you so much.”

Keith sighed, “It’s stupid.”

“You can talk to me,” Shiro smiled, “it might make you feel better.”

“It's just,” Keith started with his hands in front of him, “why did he have to be _him_?”

“I don't follow,” Shiro’s brow furrowed, “do you _know_ him?” Keith tightened his lips. “You _do_ don't you? I knew there was something you weren't telling me.”

“Yeah, so what?”

“How do you know him?”

“Doesn't matter.” Keith answered shortly as he practically flew through the doors of the retro diner.

Shiro let out a deep breath, and followed, “ _Okay_ then.”

They settled onto a pair of stools pulled up to the counter, and made their orders. Keith requested his favorite grease trap burger and fries with a strawberry milkshake, which he considered to be a perfectly good meal for a boy who’d maybe stopped growing, but was still too young to worry about what he ate, dammit!

That being said, he could hardly suppress a shudder as his less fun and slightly older counterpart ordered a black bean burger with avocado, baked chips, and unsweetened ice tea.

Where was all the artery clogging grease? The artificially flavored ice cream that tricked one into feeling better about their life because, hey, it has fruit, right? More importantly, where was the meat? What was the point in eating out if you had to refrain from the pure unadulterated goodness of all that makes food great?

Keith didn’t get it, and maybe he never would. Food was great. Food never let you down. Food would always be there for him in the late hours of the night when he couldn't sleep. It was reliable, people weren't, and, in his mind, he’d been doomed to an eternity of solitude anyway. Not that he particularly minded it, in fact he very much prefered the silence of his own company, so why not shorten his lifespan by becoming a puddle of saturated fat?

While they waited for their food, the subject changed to the studio and his future there. Somehow their conversations always wound back to that and all of Keith’s nonexistent ‘plans’.

“I’m going to say it again, Keith.”

“Shiro, don’t-”

“You need to _leave_ , forget about Zarkon”

“It's not that easy,” Keith shook his head, “and you know it.”

“I think you’re making excuses.”

“There is no way he'd let me go.”

“You're 21,” Shiro picked up his burger, “there's no way he can stop you.”

“Whatever,” Keith replied while stuffing a french fry into his mouth, “talk to me again when I win the lottery. Or better yet, give me a raise when you get promoted.”

He wrung his hands in his napkin, “You don’t know that I’m going to get it.”

“C’mon, Kolivan has literally been training you to take over when he leaves, and, hey guess what, he’s leaving.”

“True, but,” Shiro sighed heavily, “I still have to interview for it.”

Keith nodded as he finished chewing. “When do you do that?”

“Sometime next week.”

“Zarkon doesn’t seem to _hate_ you.” Shiro raised his eyebrow. “Okay,” Keith shrugged, “But he hates everyone and nearly everything, including his own precious son. The bastard has no heart.”

“That’s encouraging.”

“Don’t worry about it, the one thing he _does_ love is money, and you bring in plenty of it with your scouting. You’ll be fine.”

“We’ll see.” He shrugged and they fell into a necessary silence as they ate. Keith absentmindedly unbuttoned the first two buttons on the crisp blue shirt because he felt as though it was choking him as he ate. He took an aggressive bite of his burger and thought, once more, about how much he disliked the guy who forced him to wear such uncomfortable clothes.

“So,” Shiro studied him curiously, “did you two date?”

Keith choked on his food, “What?”

“You and the kid from the bar.” He shrugged. “I'm just taking a guess since you won't talk about it.”

“It's not that I _won't_ talk about it,” Keith rolled his eyes, “just that there's nothing to talk about.”

“Mhm,” Shiro responded while sucking on the fat striped straw in his unsweetened tea. “you're still an awful liar.”

Keith was silent a heavy moment before he took a deep breath, “We went to school together, okay?”

“Liberty?”

“No, it was before…” Keith teetered off, and Shiro let him with a look of deep sympathy.

“Right.” He nodded and watched as the younger man shoved a small cluster of french fries into his mouth. “So, were you close?”

“Hardly.” Keith grunted. “The guy hates me.”

“Why?”

Keith shrugged, dramatically widening his eyes and shaking stuffed cheeks.

“There has to be a reason.”

“I don't know, he kinda always _has_.”

Shiro laughed, “Well, I guess you’re not the most loveable person.”

He frowned. “Yeah, I guess not.”

“Keith,” Shiro started seriously, “I’m sorry, that was a bad joke.”

“No, you’re right,” he looked at the counter, refusing to meet his older brother’s eyes, “just look at me.”

“Keith!” Shiro slammed his hand on the surface, gaining the attention of several others. “That is not what I meant. You are the strongest and most caring person I know, you just have a tendency to push people away before they can see that side of you.”

Keith looked embarrassed, but the corner of his mouth twitched up. “Okay, Shiro, you can shut up now.”

“Only if you stop acting like you don’t deserve somebody’s affection.”

“I was just being dramatic.”

 _No you weren’t_. Shiro sighed, looked around at all the curious faces, and decided to drop it for the time being. “So, what was the fight about?”

“Really?” Keith looked at him completely perplexed. “We’re back to this?”

“You didn’t finish the story.”

“I didn’t think I had to.”

“I’m just trying to understand what happened.”

“It's really not that important,” Keith shrugged, “what’s important is that he’s insufferable and I can't believe I almost had sex with him.”

“Did you two like the same guy?”

“Not exactly.”

“The same girl?”

“Are you serious?” He deadpanned.

“What?” Shiro shrugged innocently. “It's a fair question, people do weird things when their hormones are flying all over the place.”

“No, I have always been pretty fucking gay.”

“That’s fair,” he turned in his seat to give Keith his full attention, “but it still doesn’t answer the question.”

“Doesn't _matter_.” He snapped.

“Obviously it does, or you wouldn't be getting so worked up.”

“I'm only getting worked up because you keep talking about it.”

“I'm just curious why you would take him home then kick him out for something that happened _years_ ago.”

“Because he’s a douchebag. Besides, I already told you,” Keith sighed, “he hates me.”

“Still?”

A clear image of Lance half naked and seething popped into Keith’s head. “Apparently so.”

“But,” Shiro smiled softly, “do you hate him?”

“He's annoying as fuck.”

“That's not a yes.”

“It really doesn't matter, Shiro,” Keith’s shoulders slumped, “it’s not like I'm ever gonna see him again, anyway.”

Shiro studied him silently as the waiter took away their empty plates and left the check. “Do you want to?”

Keith’s straightened up a bit, “Do I want to what?”

“See him again?”

“No,” he answered with finality, “definitely not.”

“Then why is it still bothering you?”

He opened and closed his mouth a couple times. _That’s actually a very good question._ “It’s not.”

“If it’s not bothering you, then why do you keep thinking about him?”

“I’m _not_.”

“Keith,” Shiro looked at him unconvinced, “we literally started this conversation with you admitting that you were distracted by him.”

Keith mentally cursed his past self for ever caving to Shiro’s taunts, but shook it off to come up with an excuse. “Well, I guess it’s kinda hard not to think about someone when that bastard sucked on my neck so hard that I have to choke myself with this damn shirt..”

“At least you look like an adult for once.” He tilted his head, “I mean, if you had actually taken a shower.”

Keith glared and got to his feet. “Ha. You're so fucking funny.”

“I think so.” Shiro chuckled as he followed him out. “Honestly, I didn't know you even _had_ any blue in your closet.”

“I don-” Keith’s eyes widened in panic as the realization hit him like a ton of bricks. _What the shit?_

“In any case,” Shiro gave him a good once over, “it looks nice, is it new?”

“Er-” His face was hot and he suddenly became very short of breath. _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._ “Yeah, you could say that.”

Keith watched his reflection as they walked past the window of a nearby shop. How had he not noticed before? He hadn’t thought anything of it when he threw the soft shirt on that morning, only the vague feeling that the warm vanilla and lavender scent surrounding him wasn't his own.


	6. Wires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's split up into two parts with the second acting as a bit of a springboard for what's to come

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoooo, so I've finished classes and plan on getting back into a regular schedule here. I think I'm going to stick with biweekly updates (every other Wednesday) just so I have time to work on some of my other things. In any case, thank you all sO much for every single hit/kudo/comment/share, it means the absolute world to me :)

“Dude,” Hunk started as Lance grimaced at his own reflection, “do you want me to go get it?”

“No,” he sighed. “It's lost now, gone forever.”

“Just get another one.”

Lance tugged on the hem of his black T-shirt and shook his head. “It wouldn't be the same.”

“Lance, buddy, it's just a shirt, and you have, like, dozens of them.”

“Yeah, but that one was my _favorite_.”

Hunk rolled his eyes. “So was the one you left with Nyma.”

Lance shot him a dirty look. “That is a name we do not utter here.”

He winced, “Sorry, dude, I didn’t think about it.”

“And anyway, you know I only left that with her because she let her slimy _whatever_ wear it, but this one was my _favorite_ favorite.”

Hunk stared blankly at his friend still sulking at his reflection in the long mirror. “You're right, this is a true tragedy. I cannot believe you’ve been without your ‘ _favorite shirt’_ for, what, whole a week- week and a half?”

“Ya know,” Lance turned around and crossed his arms over his chest, “you could at least _try_ to sound a bit more sympathetic.”

“I hardly ever saw you wear it, so I forgive me if I don't believe it's really _that_ big of a deal.”

“Well it is.”

“Then go get it from your supposed ‘arch nemeses’.”

“No!”

“And why not?”

“Um,” Lance gestured to the sky, “because he’s a jerk and I don’t want to see him.” Hunk rolled his eyes as Lance continued, “He's just-” _really attractive_ “and-” _I wonder what he looks like in my shirt…_ “Goddammit!” Lance buried his face in his palm and wondered why his thoughts kept betraying him. “I hate him.”

“Right…” Hunk raised his eyebrows and eyed him with the utmost curiosity. “Are you _sure_ you don't want me to get it?”

“No…” He sighed heavily, “Whatever, it's probably been contaminated by now, anyway.”

Hunk groaned, “Then _stop talking about it_.”

Lance tried pouting, but his attention was called to the loud stream of curses emanating from the couch in their living room.

Hunk took a deep breath. “We need to focus on _this_ so you can go take care of _that_.”

“That’s rude, Hunk, It's not a _that_ ,” Lance started with a finger up in correction, “It’s a _thing_.”

“This _thing_ ,” Pidge called from beyond the cracked door, “is about to slay your high score.”

“Bitch.” He whispered.

“Ahem.” Hunk tapped his foot on the pedal of his bass drum for emphasis. “Lance, the competition, a contract, _$10,000_ , remember?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he shook his head and sat back on the high stool before bringing his guitar back to his lap, “Focus, I got it.”

They started with a basic warm up of the song they’d performed at the show, then moved onto the newest thing they’d been working on. The garage, which acted as their studio, was attached to their small townhouse, and they were lucky enough to be the last unit on the block which gave them relative freedom when rehearsing. They still had to keep it down, of course, but only for a short while. Shay pulled some strings (and by pulled strings, she just asked her Grandma) to get them permission to use Balmera outside of hours if they needed to.

That offer would prove to be most useful when they found the other two members they needed for the competition and the little garage became too cramped to utilize. However, for the time being, their own space would have to be good enough.

At some point, Pidge wandered into their rehearsal and leaned in the doorframe to watch the two guys play, mess up, and redo together until they finished the song completely.

“You guys aren't too bad.” She voiced her approval from where she stood in the doorway.

“Thanks?” Hunk eyed her skeptically as Lance narrowed his.

“What's that supposed to mean?” He asked defensively.

“Exactly what it sounds like,” she shrugged, “you’re pretty good.”

“Oh,” Lance straightened his back, “then... thank you, I-I guess.”

“You can keep going.” Pidge flicked the back of her hand a couple of times. “Don't mind me.”

Lance looked at Hunk who shrugged and they started again.

_I'm still alive, but I'm barely breathin_

_Just praying to a God that I don't believe in_

_Cuz I've got time while she's got freedom_

_When a heart breaks no it don't break-_

Hunk stopped suddenly and sighed when he saw Pidge’s hand shoot in the air.

“Sorry,” she started, “this may sound weird, but can I record this?”

“Why?” Lance looked at her in confusion.

“I just have a few idea I want to play around with.”

“What kind of ideas?”

She merely shrugged.

“I guess…” Hunk looked to his friend cautiously, “I don't see why not.”

Lance considered them both for a moment. “Alright, sure, whatever,” he shook his head, “just as long as you don't show anyone else or post it anywhere.”

“Sweet!” She jumped to her feet and retrieved her laptop from inside. “I just designed a program that I've been _dying_ to test out.” Both boys watched in shock and awe as this tiny girl unpacked a small mic complete with a collapsible sound shell. She secured her giant green headphones over her big hair and smiled at them brightly. “Okay, now forget I'm even here.”

Hunk gulped and looked at Lance to silently ask: _who the hell is this chick_?

“Right.” Lance nodded to her as she gave them the thumbs up. They ran through the song again as seamlessly as they could, and then were instructed to leave their own rehearsal space so that Pidge could have some quiet.

“Why the hell does _she_ need to be alone?”

Hunk filled a tall glass of ice water and shook his head. “I don't know, man, you're the one that brought her over.”

“Yeah,” Lance threw himself back on the couch, “to _study_.”

Hunk laughed. “Whatever, I needed to take a break anyway, I'm starved.”

“Pizza?”

“No it’s probably too late for pizza, but,” his eyes widened as he was struck with inspiration, “Chicken Parmesan?”

“I don't care as long as I can pack it away in my belly.”

“Hey Lance?” Hunk started a few minutes after he got the pot of water on the stove.

“Yeah, H.G Dory?”

“What are we gonna do about the other two members?”

Lance sighed. Over the past few days, they'd briefly talked about it, but it was more about the fact that they needed them and not so much _how_ they were going to get them. “I can ask my coworkers.”

“You _hate_ everyone you work with.”

“Hey, as long as they can play, we don't have to _like_ them.”

“Or you could put up flyers.” Pidge inserted casually as she walked back across the room. She went straight for the kitchen and grabbed a Mtn. Dew from the fridge. “Maybe a Craigslist ad?”

“Um,” Lance shook his head in surprise, “sure, you can have a soda, why not?”

“I didn’t realize I needed your permission seeing how I bought them last time I was here.”

Hunk laughed. “Ignore him, Pidge, make yourself at home.”

“I feel like she already _has_.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she mocked, “I’ll remember to ask next time.”

Lance glared, “Did you finish whatever the hell you needed us to leave for?”

“Eh,” she crossed her arms and leaned against the counter, “I have some stuff to add at home, unless you have a keyboard here?”

“‘Fraid not, smallfry.”

“Actually,” Hunk started to himself, looking curiously at the ceiling, “I think,” he swung open the small pantry, “ just wait a second.”

“We _do_ have a keyboard?” Lance craned his head to fix his friend with a puzzled expression. “Since when?”

“No,” he shook his head, “I’m just talking to myself.”

“And I’m the crazy one.” Lance snorted.

“Oh,” Pidge raised an eyebrow, “you still are.”

“Hey!”

“You okay, Hunk?” She asked, ignoring Lance completely.

“I’m looking for the mix I had made for breading.”

“Do you want any help?”

“Nah,” he waved her off, “I’ll be fine… if could just. Find. It.”

“You sure?”

“He doesn’t like anyone in the kitchen while he cooks.” Lance explained.

“Ah,” she nodded, “I can see why he’d tell _you_ that.”

“You’re mean.”

She snorted, “you can handle it.”

He pursed his lips in consideration before shrugging in agreeance.

They watched him disappear behind the pantry door once more. “Do you want to stay for our midnight meal?”

“If you’re offering,” Pidge shrugged, “then absolutely!”

“Yeah, I mean, if you’re okay with Chicken Parmesan.”

“I’m okay with anything you can put in my mouth.” Hunk turned bright red as Lance busted into unabashed laughter from the couch. “Right,” she started looking away with equally red cheeks, “phrasing is a thing. I’m just gonna-”

She set her can on the counter, and then, like so many do when they want to escape an awkward situation, walked straight to the half bathroom beside the front door. Lance kept laughing even after the door closed.

“She’s fun,” he said fondly once he stopped giggling, “I like her.”

“Yeah,” Hunk smiled, “she’s pretty cool.”

“What do you think she was doing earlier?”

“Beats me, dude, probably something neither of us would understand.”

“Are you implying she’s smarter than me?”

Hunk laughed, “She’s probably smarter than both of us.”

“Hmm,” Lance halfheartedly glared at him, “I can't tell if I'm offended by that allegation.”

“Whoa, I'm impressed,” Pidge started on her way back, “that's a pretty big word.”

He looked past her to Hunk, “Are you just gonna stand there and let her bully me?”

“Hey,” He shrugged, “I'm cooking.”

“All jokes aside,” Pidge started again, “Thank you guys for just letting me hang out here this last week.”

“I don't know if _let_ is the right word,” Lance countered, “more like, _had no choice_ since you’re helping me with history.”

“Don't worry about it,” Hunk talked over his friend, “you're always welcome.”

She smiled awkwardly and rubbed at her arm, “Thanks.”

“So,” Lance turned back to her, “why do you want a keyboard anyway?”

“I told you,” she plopped down next to him, “I have a new toy that I want to tinker with.”

“Do you actually _play_?”

“ _No_ , fuckboi,” she dramatically rolled her eyes, “I just want to _look_ at it.”

“You do that so seamlessly that I honestly can’t tell if you’re joking.”

“I am joking,” she took a sip, “and, yes, I play.”

“You do?” Lances ears seemed to perk up and he smiled, “Do you, perchance, maybe, wanna-”

“Let me do my tinkering first,” Pidge cut him off with a hand up, “then I’ll see if being a part of your band is something I can swing in my nonexistent free time. But for now,” she pulled her backpack from the floor into her lap, “let me see your notes.”

…

Pidge Gunderson was a slob. A Genius, yes, but a slob. And not as much a _dirty_ slob, but definitely a messy one. She had everything everywhere and God help anyone who wasn't herself find something. To her, it was functional chaos, to everyone else, it was just plain chaos; it was who she was, and Shiro was used to it by now.

So, when he let himself into her cramped studio apartment, he was hardly surprised to see her passed out on her industrial desk in a tangle of cords. Her giant green headphones where awkwardly pushed back on one side which kept her lopsided glasses in place.

Shiro sighed and let her be while he put away the few bags of groceries he’d brought for her (because he knew if she were left to her own devices, she’d exist purely on Mt.Dew and yogurt granola bars, and her only interaction outside of classes would be through the speakers of her headset). Those fears were the very reasons Shiro was sure to come by at least once a week to check in. He usually brought her food and cleaned up. Though, he often wondered why he even bothered since it was always wrecked again by the time he came back.

Pidge slept soundly as he moved about, tidying what he couldn’t clean. He shook his head when he noticed that her bed was still made from the last time he was there which meant she’d been sleeping with the crumpled blanket on the small suede couch in the middle of the room; that is, _if_ she had been sleeping at all.

“SON OF A QUIZNACK!” followed by a loud crash, and Shiro knew Pidge was finally awake.

“Glad you decided to join the rest of the world before sunset.”

“Shiro, broseph,” she started while fixing her glasses, “you know I love you, but, holy shit, you have _got_ to stop sneaking around like a ninja.”

He laughed, “You’re right, I’m sorry, but if I had waited for you to wake up on your own, I would never have made it over.”

She was still untangling herself from the mess of cords that seemed to bind her to the surface of her desk. As she did, she somehow pressed the spacebar on her keyboard which started playing the music she’d been working on. The sudden noise from the headphones around her neck made her jump. The cord jerked violently from the jack in the slick monitor, and the music echoed loudly through the small place

“Oh, great.” She held up the end of her headphones, “I swear to God, if that fucked up my jack-”

“Who is this?” Shiro asked.

“Huh?” She looked at him curiously then back to the computer, “Oh, um, it’s a song I’ve been playing around with by a couple of friend.”

“Friends?” He smiled proudly, “You have friends now?”

“Yeah, well,” she rolled her eyes, “I _do_ socialize every now and then.”

Shiro chuckled, “I seem to recall a time, not too long ago, when you claimed to be violently against the idea of making any friends here.”

“I still am, but, I don’t know,” she shrugged, “these guys are pretty cool, I guess.”

“I’m really glad to hear that, Katie.”

“Oh God,” she groaned and fell onto the couch, “you sound like my parents.”

“Sorry, but I’m proud of you for putting yourself out there.”

“You’re making it sound like I setup a dating profile.”

“Did you?”

She leaned her head back on the cushion to look at him with an expression of the deepest annoyance. “You can’t be serious.”

He sat next to her and put up his feet on the coffee table that was now slightly less cluttered than when he first showed up. “Is this the kid you’ve been tutoring?”

“Yeah, his name’s Lance.”

“Lance?” Shiro looked at her with a furrowed brow. “And who’s the other person?”

“His roommate.”

“Is his name, perchance, Hank?”

“... _Hunk_ , actually.” She answered tentatively. “And, how’d you know that?”

“I saw them play a couple weeks ago,” he nodded in approval as the song came to an end, “they’re not bad.”

“Not too bad at all. In fact,” Pidge started proudly, “they’re competing in a Altea’s Battle of the Bands.”

“Really?” Shiro looked at her earnestly, “Altea is doing as Battle of the Bands?”

“I thought you’d have known, being a big time Music Producer.”

“I’m not a producer, I’m the booking and talent manager.”

“Whatever,” she waved his off, “you pretty much do the job, the title is just a formality.”

Shiro let out a heavy breath in response before redirecting the conversation. “So, when you say you were _‘playing around with_ ’ their song, what did you mean?”

Just then, Pidge got this look in her eyes- a gleam, if you will- as though she was an evil mastermind and had just been given the opportunity to monologue about her great plans for world domination. “I am glad you asked, my friend.”

 _Oh no,_ Shiro thought as she rolled onto her her feet and went straight back to her desktop.

“So,” Pidge started excitedly, “first, I found one of Matt’s old gaming monitors, then I used that to connect the new system I built which has an audio synthesizer and recording program I wrote myself that connects directly with all my controls so that everything- keyboard, pad, mics, sound circuits, all the fun stuff- goes directly into this interface which makes layering _SO_ much easier than anything I've had before. I'm think that if this works out, I'll work on simplifying it to a sort of touch-”

“Slow down, Pidge,” Shiro held up his hands, “as much as I wish I were more like him, I'm not Matt and I have _no_ idea what you're talking about.”

“Yeah, I know,” she sighed, “but you asked.”

“And I want to know, just,” he laughed, “in a language I can understand.”

“Right.” Pidge figured with her equipment a moment, “Basically, I wrote a program to make life easier and I'm still fiddling around with it. For example, I take a [ song ](https://youtu.be/MzCLLHscMOw),” she secured her headphones on her head and pressed a button, the room erupted once again with their music, “and I create layers,” her fingers moved across a pad connected to the computer to add different components.

Shiro crossed the room and watched her in fascination until the song came to an end. “That's amazing.”

She slid her headphones onto her neck and beamed at him, “Thanks! I feel like I'm nearly there, but it’s not so bad for where it's at.”

“Do they know you’re doing this?”

“They know I wanted to mess with some of the sounds, yes.”

“Are you going to show them?”

“I don't know,” she shrugged, “I’ll at least send them what I've done.”

“Have _you_ thought about competing, too?”

Pidge grimaced, “Um, no, I am not a soloist. Besides, you need 4 people? I think??”

“For what? To compete?”

“I think so, at least, that’s what Lance was telling me.”

“Do they _have_ 4 people?”

She got quiet and turned back to her program. “I don’t know.”

“If they don’t, you should consider-”

“Yeah,” she cut him off abruptly, “Lance asked me if I could last night.”

“That’s great!" Shiro started proudly, “They’ll be lucky to have you.”

“Who said I _want_ to join a band?”

“Why did you ask to mess around with their song?”

“Because I needed to test my program.”

“Why did you _write_ that program?”

“I, um,” she looked away bashfully, “wanted to see if I could do it, okay?”

“Pidge,” he started sweetly, “it’s okay if you want to make music.”

“I know it is,” she replied defensively before crossing the room to the fridge. “Aw, you forgot my lifeline.”

“Do you _know_ how much sugar your _‘lifeline_ ’ has in it?”

“About 46 grams per 12 ounces serving.”

“Of course you do,” Shiro curled his lip, “and that is disgusting.”

“Don’t try to use facts against a genuis, Shiro,” she pulled out a cup of Jello and hopped on the counter, “we already know what we’re getting into.”

“What do you think you’ll be getting into if you joined your friends’ band?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t given it much thought.” That was a boldfaced lie, she had thought about it endlessly since it had been offered a whopping 12 hours ago.

“Are you scared?”

Pidge adjusted her glasses to glare at him. “I’m not _scared_ , I just don’t see the point.”

“Why not? Take it from this Big Time _not_ Music Producer, they’re really good on their own, but, not quite contract ready.”

“That’s inspiring.”

“Let me finish,” he leaned on the counter across from her, “if you joined them, with all of your crazy wonderful music, nobody could touch you guys.”

She considered him for a while as she finished her Jello cup. “Do you really thinks so?”

“I do.”

The corner of her mouth curved up, “Okay, I’ll consider it if they _like_ the song, but we’d still be short a player.”

“Do you know what kind of player they're looking for?”

“Lance sings and plays guitar, Hunk’s on drums, and I'd do all the weird shit, so, maybe a bass??” She sighed, “Honestly I have no idea, I'd have to ask. Why? Interested in joining?”

“God no.” He shuddered. “I work _with_ the talent- I have absolutely no desire to be in any sort of limelight, but…” Shiro brought a hand to cup his chin, “I think I might know a guy.”


	7. Throw Down [Averted]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically, it's still Wednesday in Hawaii...  
> Sorry.

It was 2:43 in the morning, and, for the second time in a row, Lance woke up to his phone vibrating loudly on the surface of his desk. The air had a slight sting to it as he threw the covers off his body and the bed shifted as he sat up with heavy limbs. He was still tired- of course he was- but his mind was buzzing because who in their right mind would _ ever _ call him at this time?  _ This had better be a Goddamn emergency _ .

Momo was zooming through the complex tube system of his deluxe hamster cage. Very unlike his owner, he was energized by the moonlight, but Lance loved him nonetheless. They'd been together for over 2 years now, and, aside from Hunk, he was the best therapist having no money could buy. 

“Momo,” Lance started in a whisper as he saw that name lighting up his screen, “would you judge me if I slaughtered this chick?” The rodent stopped a moment to look at him then itched behind his ear, “You know, I'm gonna take that as a no.” 

The phone stilled for just a few blissful seconds, and Lance was almost able to let out a deep breath before it lit up all over again. He groaned and aggressively slid his thumb across the screen. “You better be dying in a ditch somewhere right now, Pidge.”

“ _ Why would I be in a ditch? _ ”

“I don't know!” He started in an irritated voice,  “What do you want!?”

“ _ Wha-ho, somebody’s grouchy. _ ”

“It's 3 O’clock in the fucking morning!”

“ _ And you  _ _ weren't _ _ up? _ ” She asked, genuinely surprised.

“ _ No I wasn't up! _ ” 

“ _ Ooh _ ,” Pidge drew out, “ _ Sorry, dude, why didn't you just ignore me? _ ”

“ _ Because you _ -” Lance whimpered before cutting himself off with a groan and dropping his head in his hand, “Pidge, just tell me  _ why _ I'm talking to you right now?”

“ _ Um, _ ” she started sarcastically, “ _ because you answered your phone. _ ”

“Pidge!”

“ _ Sheesh, sorry. I  _ _ called _ _ because I sent over the file of your song and I want to know what you think of it. _ ”

“Can't that wait til morning?”

“ _ Technically it is the morning _ .”

“I hate you.”

“ _ Well, _ ” she started matter of factly, “ _ you're up now anyway… _ ”

“Fuck,” he sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “Fine. Where'd you send it?”

“ _ Email _ .”

“Okay,” he yawned, “I'll listen and text you my thoughts.”

“ _ Or you could just listen to it now while I'm still on the phone. I'll stay quiet as a mouse! _ ” Pidge’s speech seemed to start blurring together _ ,  _ “ _ And then we can talk for a bit because I’ve been talking to my friend about everything and he- _ ”

“Pigde,” Lance cut her off in an exasperated sigh, “Slow down a tick and let me at least pull it up first.” He put the phone on his desk as he booted up his computer, “ _ space_unicorn1969 _ ??”

“ _ Yep. _ ”

“Wow,” he shook his head, “I don’t know what I was expecting, but it shouldn’t have been anything else.” 

“ _ Okay _ _ , like you have anyroom to talk, blupaladinrox … _ ”

Lance channeled his glare to the bright screen in front of him, “Touché, Four Eyes.”

“ _ Don’t resort to petty name calling, Skinny Jeans, it’s childish _ .”

“Pft. Skinny Jeans?” He snorted as he plugged in his headphones, “Is that supposed to be an insult?”

“ _ Why would you take it as a compliment? _ ”

“Um.. why wouldn’t I? My ass looks great in skinny jeans, thank you very much!”

“ _ O-kay. _ ”

“Shut up, I’m going to press play.” 

As soon as he did, the music seemed to spread from the cheap plastic earbuds throughout his body, sending butterflies to his stomach, plastering a side smile on his face, and pushing away any semblance of fatigue. What was this? 

Yes, it was their song, yet it was drastically different; it brought in a whole new sound, one he never would have come up with on his own. 

Pidge’s modifications added to the  _ feeling  _ of the song and Lance was quickly coming to the conclusion that that kind of feeling was something they could easily incorporate into their other music. They needed her to hone in on their style, and he decided he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. 

Lance sat still, staring blankly at the screen awhile after the song had ended until Pidge’s irritated voice finally broke through the plastic in his ears. 

“ _ Lance!? The song is only 4 minutes and 21 seconds long and you’ve been silent for 6 minutes and 17 seconds! _ ”

He fumbled with his phone as he brought it up to his ear, “Holy mother cow, Pidge!”

“ _ I’m going to take that as you liked it? _ ”

“Can you do this stuff live?”

“ _ Wouldn’t have sent it if I couldn’t. _ ”

“We need you.” He declared shamelessly.

“ _ Whoa, take a girl to dinner first. _ ”

“I’ll take you to wherever, just,  _ please _ ?”

The line was silent as the girl on the other end considered everything Shiro had said earlier that night. “ _If I’m being honest,_ ” she started with a deep breath, “ _I spend most of my nights listening to other people’s music, and half that time I’m distracted by thinking about the things I would add or change. I think doing that, making music, is something I’d be happy doing, ya know? Anyway, I guess what I’m saying is that I really like your music and I had a lot of fun playing with your song, so, yeah, if you’ll have me-_ ”

“YES!” Lance exclaimed loudly and immediately cupped his mouth as if it would undo the echo in their otherwise silent home. “I mean,” he cleared his throat casually, “yeah, that’d be cool, I guess. Obviously I have to talk to Hunk about it, and you have to be sure you can completely commit. Like,  _ really  _ commit. That means every rehearsal, every meeting, participating in group chats-”

“ _ Yeah, yeah, _ ” Pidge cut him off dismissively, “ _ I know what the word ‘commit’ means, and, _ ” She let out a dramatic breath, “ _ I  _ _ guess _ _ I can do that. _ ” 

“But really,” Lance sat back in his chair and looked Momo square in the eye as if his furry little friend was channeling the spirit of the girl on the other end of the line, “it's going to take a lot of time and effort.”

“ _ I know, and I'm ready _ .”

He jumped from his seat and silently cheered to himself. “ _ Yeeesss!  _ Holy quiznak, Pidge, you don't even understand how happy I am right now! I mean, I doubt Hunk will have any objections, then we just need to find one more person and we’ll be set!” 

“ _ About that… _ ”

“Yeah?”

“ _ So, I was talking with a friend of mine who’s a music producer for Galra Records- _ ”

“Boo!” Lance inserted spitefully. 

“ _ What? Why? I mean, other than the fact that they’re the embodiment of everything corrupt in the music industry. _ ”

“It a long story,”  _ that involves a certain mulleted bastard.  _ There was a finality in his voice that told Pidge not to ask.

_ “Okay _ ... _ Anyway, my friend’s really cool and I've known him forever so I trust his opinion, and he suggested  _ _ his _ _ friend as a possible fourth guy! _ ”

“Hmm,” Lance cupped his chin in thought, “That sounds nice, but can he play?”

“ _ According to Shiro, yes and very well. _ ” 

“Okay, I'll give him a shot, what's this guy's name?”

“ _ Er- Kevin… I'm pretty sure, yeah… definitely Kevin… or something close to that. I don't know, I suck at names. _ ”

Lance nodded his approval,  _ Kevin sounds nonthreatening enough.  _ “Anyway to get a hold of him?”

“ _ Umm, I didn't think about getting his number, but I can call Shiro and pass the deets along. Can you think of anywhere we could meet? Somewhere he can sort of try out? _ ”

Lance thought about their garage, but was having a stranger that might turn out to be a psychopath know where they live really a good idea?? “I'll ask Shay if we could use Balmera sometime before they open.” 

“ _ Who's Shay? _ ”

“Hunk’s would be girlfriend if either of them actually had the balls to ask the other out. Her Grandma owns Balmera, so she might be able to help us.” 

“ _ Okay, I'll contact my person and you talk to Hunk and contact your person and we’ll figure out when and where. _ ”

“Pidge,” Lance drew out through a wide smile he knew she couldn't see, “Seriously, you're the best!”

“ _ I'll remember you said that. See you tonight, blupaladinrox. _ ”

Lance groaned, “Right.”

“ _ Don't forget to bring your paper! _ ”

“Night, fun_sucker_unicorn1969.” He hung up to the sound of her ringing (maniacal) laughter. Great, another thing he had to worry about.

Procrastination was probably Lance’s greatest downfall. He wished with all his heart he could be the type of person who could get things done on time, but he just couldn't make himself do it. Things were either too stressful or too boring and he felt his time was better spent doing what he enjoyed, even if that equated to sitting on the couch eating espresso and chocolate covered almonds while Momo burrowed in his shirt. He knew that it was important to adult every once in awhile, but he rationalized that it was also important for one to bond with one’s pet. 

Lance sat- still basking in the dull glow of his laptop, gnawing on his lower lip, fingers drumming on the surface of his desk- and studied the clock. Would trying to go back to sleep really be worth it? It wasn't that he wasn't  _ exhausted _ , but he knew he would just have to wake back up in a couple hours anyway to get ready for work. Plus now, thanks to Pidge, he was reminded of all that he hadn't yet done for class, and, yeah, okay, he really probably should get on that. 

He threw back his head and groaned. His heart said sleep, but his mind said, ‘ _ you did this to yourself _ ’!

“Ok. Coño.” He buried his head deep in his hands, “ Consiga su mierda junto, McClain .”

After stretching his languid limbs and running to the kitchen for an nice lukewarm Red Bull, Lance turned on the lights, settled in front of his laptop, and forced himself to focus on bullshitting the paper he had absolutely no interest in writing. 

…

Nearly every Friday, after Hunk had finished school and while Lance was between work and class, the two would go to their favorite old school diner down the street from the University. It was an unspoken ritual that they shared and looked forward to every week rain or shine, good day or bad, it was time they took to refresh.

“Wow,” Hunk started when he saw his friend approach their table, “what happened to you?”

Lance glared, “Good afternoon to you, too, Hunk.”

He looked over Lance, taking in his exhausted features- from his sunken features to his slouched shoulders, “Didn’t sleep?”

Lance sighed and sat across from him, “Nope.”

“Why not?” Hunk inquired, carefully filling Lance’s glass with ice water because beneath the overshadowing bags under his eyes, the dude looked a little strung out. 

He thanked him with a nod and brought it to his lips before offering an explanation. “Pidge woke me up at 3 in the fucking morning.”

Hunk winced sympathetically, “That’s rough buddy.”

“You’re telling me,” he mumbled.

“What did she want?”

Lance choked on his water. “ _ F- _ ”*cough*“ _ -uck _ .”

“Dude,” Hunk leaned forward, “are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Lance cleared his throat, “just,  _ man _ , I can’t believe I didn’t already tell you!’

Hunk tilted his head and eyed his friend skeptically, “Tell me what?”

“Just a tick,” he held up a finger as he pulled out his phone wrapped tightly with his headphones. “Okay,” Lance unraveled the earbuds and handed them to a curious Hunk, “Now, listen to this.”

Hunk’s face remained serious as the song went on, but his head began bobbing to the beat and his eyes gained a certain gleam to them by the time it ended. 

He took out the headphones and calmly set them on the table, “Did Pidge do this?”

Lance was wearing a wide grin, “Hell yes she did.”

Hunk nodded, pursing his lips in consideration. “Well,” he started with a clap of his hands, “that settles that.”

“What settles what?”

“She has to join us.” He said matter of factly.

“Ha!” Lance threw up his hands, “That’s  _ exactly  _ what I said!”

“I’m serious, Lance.”

“I know, dude, I am too!”

“No, like,” Hunk quickly looked around the room and leaned in to speak in a low voice, “I am not afraid to resort to kidnapping.” 

“As if you could,” Lance snorted, “she’s like a fucking spider monkey, you’d never catch her.”

He shrugged, “That’s what chloroform is for.”  

Lance cracked, doubling over the table in gut wrenching laughter, “Quiznakin  _ Christ _ , Hunk!”

His friend joined him, completely uncaring of the attention they were catching from throughout the small diner. 

Out of the corner of their eyes, their waitress approached their table with a bright smile. “You guys know what you want?” 

Lance stopped at the sight of the girl and immediately snapped into ‘pick-up mode’ with a side smile and a wiggle of his eyebrows, “Well, I think I might see something.” 

Hunk rolled his eyes as she looked at Lance, clearly deciding on how exactly to respond. “I’m sorry, and, yes, we are ready to order, thank you.” The waitress smiled thankfully at him, prompting him to continue, “He’ll have the regular burger, medium, with a side of fries, and I’lI do the double bacon burger with American cheese, well done, and fries also, please.” 

Her pin scribbled across the small pad of paper in time. “Gotcha!”

“Thank you.”

She smiled and gave him a good once over, “It’s no problem, um,” she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her cheeks tinged with a light shade of pink, “c-can I get a name for your order?”

“Ah,” Hunk was taken off guard and quickly glanced at Lance who was beaming proudly at him, “Hunk?”

“Hunk?” The young brunette drew out thoughtfully, “I’m Kelsey.”

“Uh… n-nice to meet you.”

“I’ll have that right out.” With one last smile she turned to put in their order.

Lance let out a low whistle, “Wow, she was totally hitting on you.”

A deep shade of red crept up the back of his neck, “I’m sure she was just doing her job.”

“Hunk, buddy, she was  _ totally _ giving you  _ the look _ .”

“The look?”

“Yeah, the-” Lance dramatically threw himself back with the back of his hand on his forehead, “- _ ‘take me now!’ _ look.”

“N-no she wasn’t.”

“Accept it, dude, you’re a lady killer.” He drew his lips into his mouth and sniffled, “Mamma’s so proud!”

Hunk looked away bashfully, “Shut up.”

Lance laughed, “C’mon, she’s cute.” 

He ignored him by taking a drink.

Lance looked maliciously at his friend and smirked, “And you  _ are _ single.”

That caught Hunk’s attention, “Dude, you  _ know _ I have feelings for someone else.”

“Maybe, but as of right now, face it dude,” Lance brought his own glass to his lips, “you’re still on the market, and, if you think about it  like that, so is  _ Shay _ .”

Hunk glared, “Lance...” 

“What?” He shrugged, “It’s true until you ask her out!”

“I can’t do that, Lance.” Hunk snapped.

“Why the hell not?” Lance flipped his hands out so his palms were face up to emphasize his question, “She’ll say yes.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Actually, yeah I do.”

“How?”

“Dude, it’s not even funny how obvious it is.”

Hunk gulped and looked worried, “Really?”

“Really.” Lance replied seriously, “She’s just been waiting for you to ask.” 

“Huh.”

“Yeah,” he stood up, “you just think on that,  _ I  _ need go to bathroom then I’ve got to call Pidge and tell her the good news!” 

“Right,” Hunk replied dismissively, “sure.”

Lance mentally patted himself on the back and tipped his metaphorical hat to the waitress as he passed because, thanks this beautiful stranger, Hunk had gotten the proper push to do what he should have done  _ years _ ago. 

Meanwhile, Hunk sat staring into space, paying absolutely no attention to the tall, wellbuilt man walking directly toward their table. 

“Do you mind if I have a seat?” The man asked with a warm smile.

“Uh,” Hunk looked at him in complete surprise, “why?”

“Well,” he started cordially, “I have a few things I’d like to talk to you about.”

Hunk studied him carefully, “Okay… I guess.” 

“Thank you,” the man sat in the seat to his left before extending his hand. “My name’s Shiro.”

He took it in a firm handshake, “Hunk.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Hunk.”

“So…” he leaned back and hardly resisted the urge to cross his arms, “you wanted to talk?”

“Yes,” Shiro nodded, “First off, I should let you know that I’ve known Katie Holt for years, and she came to me for advice on your band.”

“Wait,” Hunk waved his hand, “you know Pidge?”

“Yeah,” he smiled fondly, “she’s like a younger sister, really.”

“Oh,” he relaxed a little, “okay, so you said she told you about our band?”

“Yes, and I think I can help you find your fourth member.”

“Huh,” Hunk raised a curious eyebrow, “I’m listening.”

Shiro leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, “I know a kid who might need you as much as you need him.”

This time Hunk did cross his arms and eyed the man beside him skeptically, “What makes you think that we need him at all?”

“He’s incredibly talented,” Shiro answered without missing a beat, “and even with Katie, you’re still short one player.”

“A lot of people are talented,” Hunk scoffed, “What does this guy play?”

“He’s been playing guitar since he was 9,” he started counting on his fingers, “piano since he was 5, and he took up bass when he was 15. He’s an incredible singer and an even better songwriter. Actually, he’s written two Grammy winners-”

“Wait, really?”

“Really.”

“If he’s so accomplished, how could he possibly  _ ‘need’ _ us?”

“Well, he’s…” he stopped to consider how to phrase it, “in a tough situation, and that contract with Altea is his best chance of getting out of it.”

“How so?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

“Hm.” Hunk considered him and his words seriously, “So why us?”

“Well,” Shiro smiled, “I heard what Katie was working on and I saw you guys play at Balmera a couple weeks ago. I’m really impressed with you and your friend, and especially after hearing what Katie was able to add, I think that if my guy joins you, you guys are have a really good chance at winning.”

“A couple weeks ago, huh?” Hunk hummed and studied him thoughtfully until he could place him with a snap of his fingers, “Ah, right! Tall and Handsome.”

“Tall and Handsome?”

“Yeah, I remember you alright.” He ignored him and honed in his glare, “You and your  _ friend _ .”

“Ah,” Shiro let out a sharp breath and rubbed his neck, “yes, Keith.”

“Wait a minute,” Hunk’s eyes widened, “Did you say  _ Keith _ ?  _ Kogane? _ ” He sat back with a heavy sigh, “I guess that explains it.”

Shiro looked at him curiously, “Do you know him?”

“Not personally, but I’ve definitely heard  _ a lot _ about him.”

“Good things, I hope?”

Hunk answered him with a blank stare.

“Right.” Shiro took a deep breath, “Well, Keith didn’t tell me exactly what happened between he and your friend, but-”

He was cut off by Kelsey as she came up with their food, “One regular burger meal for this guy,” she set the platter in front of Lance’s vacant seat, “and one double bacon burger for Hunk.”

Hunk smiled awkwardly, “Thank you.”

“Was there anything else I could grab?” Kelsey beamed at him before glancing at Shiro, “Oh, I’m sorry, is there anything I can get started for you, sir?”

He grinned politely, “No thank you, I’m actually waiting on someone.” 

“You sure you don’t want a drink while you wait?”

“I’m okay for now, thank you.”

She nodded, and with one last look at Hunk who looked away bashfully, she left them again. 

“Waiting on someone?” Hunk asked suspiciously.

Shiro nodded, “Yes, I really am waiting on someone.”

“That’s a relief, I was afraid you were just stalking us.”

He laughed, “No, it was just a happy accident.”

“Back to the topic,” Hunk replaced his smile with a scowl, “please tell me Keith’s not  _ ‘your guy’ _ .”

Shiro pulled his lips tightly and nodded, “You caught me.”

“I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but that’s not gonna happen, dude,” Hunk held his burger up, getting ready to take a bite, “Lance hates him.”

“What even happened between the two of them?”

With full cheeks, the best Hunk could offer was a strict shake of his head, and once he was finished with his bite, he took a swig of water before he answered out loud. “That’s not my story to tell, and you should forget about Keith joining our band. Lance won’t let that happen, no matter how good you say he is.”

Shiro sighed, “I was afraid you’d say that, but please,” he pulled out his business card and handed it to Hunk, “just  _ think  _ about it.”

“Right, I’ll be sure to do that.” Hunk regarded it with disinterest and took another bite. 

“It was nice talking with you, Hunk,” Shiro stood and smiled again, “I hope you enjoy your meal.” 

Hunk watched him as he walked away, passing Lance as he went back to his seat at the counter.  _ That was weird _ . 

“You okay?” Lance started as he sat back down, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

He shook his head and looked at his friend, “Yeah, I’m good.” 

“Cool,” Lance continued excitedly, “so I talked to Pidge-” just then, a somewhat familiar figure passed in the windows, “-and we were thinking that we should-” Hunk followed him in his peripheral  as he got closer to the entrance “-all get together tonight after class, and, Hunk?” The guy stepped inside and Hunk’s stomach dropped. “Are you even  _ listening _ ?”

His eyes got wide with panic when he recognized dark and broody as he took a look around the diner. “Oh Quiznak.”

Lance began turning his head, “What are you looking-”

“ _ No _ !” Hunk bursted out, successfully redirecting Lance’s attention. “Er- um- I- I think we should take our food to go.”

“What are you talking about?” Lance reacted completely nonplussed.

Hunk watched from the corner of his eye as Keith sat next to Shiro.  _ Why didn’t that bastard warn me?  _ “It’s just such a nice day out!”

“Yeah, but our food is already  _ here _ and I’m ravished.”

“We should go to the park.”

“Hunk,” Lance ducked his head to study his friend’s panicked expression, “what’s going on? What aren’t you telling me?”

“N-nothing,  I just, um,” he was drawing a blank because he could see Shiro redirecting Keith’s attention just as he was about to look over to them, “Sh-Shay texted me, and ah-”

“Oohh,” Lance started knowingly, “I see. I’m gone for five seconds and you’ve already made your move.”

“Heh. Um,”  _ I wish _ , “y-yeah.”

“You sly dog, you.”

“Okay, but,” he chanced another glance behind Lance, and they were still in the clear for the moment, “we really need to go, she wants to meet at the park for a picnic.”

“How romantic.” Lance teased as he placed a french fry between his teeth, “You should hurry, man.”

“What? No, we both need to go.”   
“Oh, nuh-uh, the training wheels are off, buddy. You took the lead, you’re on your own, I have faith in you.”

“ _ Lance _ ,” Hunk hissed as he watch Keith head for the bathroom, “We have to go  _ now _ .” 

“Dude,” his voice took on an irritated tone, “seriously? You’ll be fine.”

“Look,” he leaned in, “I will buy lunch if you just get up right now and head to the car.”

Lance narrowed his eyes suspiciously, “What the quiznak is going on, Hunk?”

“I’ll explain later, okay? Just  _ go _ .”   
“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“You’re not in any trouble are you?”

“No, will you just meet me at the car!”

Lance stood up slowly, hesitantly, “Okay, Hunk, but you’re really freaking me out.” 

“ _ Lance- _ ”

“Yeah, okay, I’m  _ going _ .” And he did with one last concerning look at his best friend. Of course, just after he disappeared through the front doors, Keith returned from the bathroom. Shiro caught Hunk’s eyes apologetically and mouth a hurried ‘ _ sorry’ _ , which he accepted purely out of exhaustion and closed his eyes as he sunk deeply into his seat. 

“Hey, Hunk,” the sweet voice of their waitress lulled Hunk’s eyes back open, “are you okay?”

He sighed heavily, “I’m fine now, but could I get a couple big boxes and the check please?”

Kelsey looked disappointed for a moment before nodding, “Sure thing.” 

Hunk waited patiently and rubbed at his temples. Whatever the hell just happened, the whole thing felt like scene from Seren-freakin-dipity, and it was by far the most stressful few minutes of Hunk’s young life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was unbeta'd, so I do apologize if there are any mistakes.


	8. Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunk has a tough choice to make, and if he makes it, he'll have a harder time selling it to Lance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry guys, I've been sickly the last few days and didn't have it in me to look everything through. That being said, there may be some mistakes still, but I think I got everything...  
> Also, next chapter we'll be getting back into our boys' little brains

_This was far from the first time Hunk had seen his friend lose his mind over a “pretty face”. By now, tuning out Lance’s heartfelt declarations of love was second nature, but this time was different. It was...interesting. True, it was partially due to the fact that the words being said about this particular person weren’t exactly pleasant, mostly, however, it was because those venomous words were being spoken with the same consideration and passion that Lance had reserved for only the most serious of crushes._

_So, Hunk sat, at full attention in his desk chair, and hung onto his best friend’s every word as he paced the room. He’d never seen Lance like this- so completely wound up by another person- and he honestly couldn’t decide if it was unsettling or amusing._

_“-Can you believe that jerk!?” Lance had finished his long winded rant by dramatically falling on the edge of the bed._

_“Hm.” Hunk nodded in consideration, “Sounds like true love to me.”_

_“Ew!” Lance screwed up his face and threw a pillow at his friend’s head, “Shut your quiznak!”_

_“No you shut_ _your_ _quiznak!” Hunk returned the amo graciously. “It’s my house.”_

_Lance rolled his eyes, “It’s your mom’s house.”_

_“Same thing.” Hunk shrugged as he popped a BBQ chip in his mouth. “And, dude, you just spent the last two hours talking about him.”_

_“About how much I_ _hate_ _him,” Lance corrected him, “which you would_ _know_ _if you had actually been_ _listening_ _like a_ _good_ _friend.”_

_“I was listening.”_

_Lance snorted distastefully, “Obviously not.”_

_“‘Oh, that_ _Kogane_ _!’” Hunk had started in an impression of Lance that his friend would’ve been proud of if it wasn’t being used against him. “‘He thinks he’s_ _so_ _great just because he’s hot.’”_

_“I-I didn’t mean it like that!”_

_“‘I wonder if I could look as good in skinny jeans as he does. What do you think, Hunk (aka the most awesomest friend in the world)?’”_

_“Okay, but you never even-”_

_“‘And he’s actually really super smart and funny and sweet,’” Hunk continued with his impersonation, “‘which is even more annoying!’”_

_“C’mon,” Lance whined, “I never said he was funny, he has an awful sense of humor. Besides,” he wrapped his arms over his chest defensively, “I don’t even_ _sound_ _like that!”_

_Hunk laughed, “Yes you totally do!”_

_“Shut your stupid mouth-” Lance threw his body back on the mattress. “-UP!” He covered his face with his hands and groaned loudly. “quiznak!”_

_“You got it bad,” Hunk grinned as he ate another chip, “don’t ya?”_

_Lance leaned up just enough to look at his friend. “What am I supposed to do?”_

_“I don’t know, man,” he shrugged, “guys aren’t really my forte, but can’t you maybe just ask him out?”_

_“Yeah,” Lance scoffed before falling back down, “right.”_

_“Why not?”_

_“I don’t even know if he_ _likes_ _guys.” He shook his head, “He’s always so…. isolated. I can’t get a good read on him.”_

_“Isn’t that why you ask?”_

_“No.”_

_Hunk smirked, he knew how to get underneath his friend’s skin when he needed to. “You scared?”_

_“Pft.” Lance sat back up and crossed his arms, “_ _No_ _, I just don’t want to ask him okay?”_

_“Why?”_

_“Because what if he says no?” His face fell and shoulders slumped as he met Hunk’s eyes. “What then? We still have to finish the fair together, it’d be weird.”_

_Hunk studied him. He didn’t quite understand why Lance was so self conscious and it seemed as though nothing he said would make much of a difference, but he tried anyway. “Nope.”_

_“Nope, what?”_

_“There’s not a chance he’d say no,” he sat straighter in his chair as he spoke directly to Lance, “not to you.” He smiled when he saw a fresh shade of pink dust over his friend’s cheeks, “I mean, if he, ya know, swings that way, he’s probably already madly in love with you.”_

_“Do you,” Lance rubbed at his shoulder absently as he looked bashfully at the floor, “really think so?”_

_“Oh totally.” Hunk nodded, “And when you ask he’s gonna be like ‘Oh Lance,’” he had started in a dramatic voice, “‘I love you so much Lance! Take me now!’”_

_“Shut up.” Lance mumbled and rolled his eyes, “So you really think I should ask him?”_

_“Yes, dude!”_

_He smiled to himself before meeting his friend’s eyes, “Fine, but if anything goes wrong, I’m blaming you.”_

…

Very nearly seven years later, and Hunk knew that Lance still wasn't quite over what went wrong. He didn't blame Hunk- didn't think he could if he tried- but he was still hurt by it which is why Hunk felt almost treacherous as he slowly twirled Shiro’s card between his fingers. The tiny black and silver rectangle had been like a weight in his wallet ever since he got it.

“Why don’t you call him?” Shay asked, breaking his concentration. Balmera was fairly quiet for a late Tuesday afternoon, and he was waiting for his friend to meet him after work.

Hunk looked up at her from where he sat on the other side of the bartop and shook his head, “Because Lance still hates him.”

“Shiro?”

“No, the guy Shiro want us to meet with,” he took a bracing breath, “ _Keith Kogane_.”

“Oh.” She tilted her head in confusion, “But I thought you said all that happened years ago.”

“It did.”

“Then, surely, he’s let it go by now.”

“Well,” he huffed, “Lance can be petty.”

“I don’t know,” Shay started confidently, “he hasn’t seen this Keith guy since then, maybe he’ll surprise you.”

Hunk took a large drink of his beer and wiped his mouth before replying, “That’s just the thing,” he raised his eyebrows and looked at her seriously, “he _has_.”

“What?” She pushed herself off the back counter to lean on the bartop in front of her, “When? Where?”

“Uhh…” Hunk jolted at her sudden closeness and cleared his throat in attempt to distract himself from his hammering heart, “h-here, a couple weeks ago.”

Shay gasped and brought her hand up to cover her mouth, “Don’t tell me it was…”

“Yup,” he nodded solemnly, “Dark and Broody.”

With wide eyes, she shook her head slowly, “Oh no.”

“Mhm.” He took another drink as Shay stared at the card on the bar.

“What will you do?” She asked as she picked it up to study.

Hunk shrugged, “We’ll find someone else, I guess.”

“How?”

“I don’t know,” he sighed.

“But if he’s really as good as that man says…”

“I know,” he rubbed his temple, “and it’s not like we have a whole lot of time to find someone either.”

They fell back into silence, each running through different alternatives in their own minds. Hunk really didn’t know what they could do. He kept thinking about everything Shiro had said the other day, which made him think about what Lance had said, _‘_ _as long as they can play, we don't have to like them_ _’_ , and he wondered how much his friend had really meant that.

Shay slammed her hand on the table suddenly, making him jump, “This is ridiculous!” She started in a raised voice, “Are they not both adults? Can’t they put aside their differences and work together if they want to win?” Hunk couldn’t help smiling as he fell even further for her.

“I think you should call Shiro and set up a meeting because, darn it, Lance can get over it! At the end of the day it’s not just _his_ band, you and Pidge should be able to see what Keith can do, _then_ you can decide together whether or not to accept him.”

 _I think I love you._ “You might have a point there.”

“So,” she pushed the card in toward him, “call him.”

Hunk took a deep breath and picked it up, “Just a meeting?”

“Just a meeting.”

He stared at the card intently, carefully weighing the possible outcomes, but ultimately sighed in defeat. “I can’t,” he shook his head and put it back down, “Lance would be hurt.”

“Then,” she sighed, “what if you talked to him about it? Tell him about running into Shiro and just see how he responds.”

“I guess I could do that, but feel like I already know what he’s going to say.”

“Maybe,” Shay started with a shrug, “but it’s at least worth trying.”

“Yeah.” He let out a long breath before looking up at her, “Shay?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks for, ya know,” Hunk started bashfully, “talking through this with me.”

“I don’t know how much I helped, but,” she folded her hands over his on the bar and smiled, “I’m always here.”

‘ _Really._ ’ Lance’s voice popped into his head, ‘ _She’s just been waiting for you to ask_.’ Before he could think better of it, he blurted out, “Do you want to go out sometime?”

Shay stood back, letting her hands drop, and looked at him with surprise, “I- um-”

“Oh,” his face fell in his palms in embarrassment, “ _quiznak_.”

“I would really like that.”

Hunk raised his head in disbelief and was greeted with a bright smile between red cheeks, “Really?”

She nodded, “Yes.”

“Wow,” his mouth broke into a wide grin, “w-when?”

She laughed, “When did you have in mind?”

“Friday?”

“If I can get someone to cover my shift, then,” she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, “yes.”

“Okay,” He said still beaming.

She matched his smile and nodded, “Okay.”

“Shay!” Her brother called.

She sighed, “I should get back to work.”

“Okay," his voice cracked and he had to clear his throat, "yeah, totally.”

“I’ll call you about Friday.” Then she leaned across the bar and quickly kissed his cheek before walking away. Hunk sat, stunned, and gingerly touched the burning spot left by her lips. A low whistle grew louder as someone took the seat beside him.

“Well, well, well,” Lance started by clapping his hand on his shoulder, “I see you two have gotten closer since your date.”

Hunk shook himself and looked at his friend, “Date?”

“At the park the other day,” he eyed him skeptically, “remember?”

“Oh,” He straightened up and nodded, “right, yeah, um I guess I didn’t really consider that as a date.” _Since it never actually happened_.

“Obviously, whatever it _was_ was a good thing.”

“Yeah,” Hunk smiled, “it was.”

“Man,” Lance sighed, “I am _so_ single.”

He snorted, “And that’s bad?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “ _no_ , not really. I guess what I really mean is that I need to get _laid_.”

“Then talk to someone.” Hunk rolled his eyes, “And try to go through the normal channel of getting someone in bed. Like, I don’t know, an actual _date_.”

“There’s nobody here.”

Hunk scanned the bar then nodded to the guy sitting a couple tables away. “There,” Lance followed his eyes, “he looks a little like Kei-” his eyes widened as he caught himself “th-that guy from last time.”

Lance grimaced, “What makes you think I’d want someone who looks remotely like that guy.”

He let out a sigh of relief that he hadn’t picked up on his mistake, “Sorry, dude, I was just pegging your type.”

“I think I have to change _my type_.”

“Oh,” Hunk started nervously, “was he really so bad? I mean, he seemed nice to me.”

“How would you know?” Lance drawled, “You didn’t even talk to him.”

 _This isn’t good. He won’t even talk about him, he hasn’t even mentioned that it was Keith, and now he thinks he has to change his type? How am I supposed to convince him to meet with the guy?_ Hunk cleared his throat and finished the other two thirds of his drink.

“Whoa,” Lance held up his hand, “Slow down there, buddy.”

“Look, Lance, there's something I've got to tell you.” He turned in his seat to look at him directly, “I talked to Pidge’s guy the other day.”

“What?” Lance threw up his hands, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because, um,” Hunk shook his head, “just let me finish real quick.” Lance made a show of zipping his lips before gesturing for him to continue. “Okay,” he sighed, “right, so, I ran into this guy, Shiro, and we got to talking about his friend who is _really_ good at, well, practically any instrument we’d use, and I _really_ think we should meet with him and give him a shot.”

“Is that it?” Lance dismissed, “Because I thought we all had already agreed on that.”

“No,” Hunk took a deep breath, “that’s not it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Um.” He let his air out in a sharp whistle before looking at him seriously, “Did you mean what you said about not having to _like_ someone as long as they could _play_?”

“Yeah…” Lance answered hesitantly.

“Okay, but is there like a limit on how much you can _not_ like someone?”

“Why?”

“Say it was someone you really didn’t like, someone you really, _really_ didn’t like,” He looked up a moment before finishing, “would you still let them join?”

“I think I’d get over it if they were good enough.” Lance furrowed his brow, “Why are you asking this, Hunk? Do you know someone?”

He took another deep breath and closed his eyes. _Rip it off like a bandaid._ “It’s Keith.”

Lance was silent as his face lost its color, “What?”

“The guy Shiro wants us to meet with, the one who’s really talented-”

“Is... _Keith_.” Lance finished for him still in a state of shock.

“Y-eah.”

He nodded slowly, “And what did you tell him?”

“I told him that I needed to talk it over with you and Pidge.” Hunk lied easily.

“But you think we should do it?”

It was more of a statement than an actual question, and he shrugged, “Yeah, I mean, I think we should at least give him a shot.”

“Really, Hunk?” Lance finally cracked, “After what happened, you really want to meet with him?”

“Lance,” he started calmly, “that was _seven years_ ago.”

“Yeah! And it still sucks! Plus,” Lance took a sharp breath before continuing, “I wasn’t gonna tell you this, but that guy who stole my shirt a couple weeks ago? Yeah, that was Keith.”

“No way!” He responded, feigning surprise.

Lance nodded, “Yeah.”

“What, um,” Hunk started cautiously, “exactly happened that night?”

Lance smirked, “You _really_ wanna know?”

“Spare me the details, please,” Hunk held up his hand, “but I would like to know how you ended up waiting on the curb in the cold.” A look of horror crossed his face, “Oh quiznak, Lance, did he _try_ anything you didn’t want? Because if he did, I take back everything I said about giving him a shot and we can start plotting how to get rid of his body.”

“No, it was nothing like that.” Lance smiled, “Though I appreciate the offer, pal.”

“Then what happened?”

“Well,” he teetered his head from side to side, “I guess, nothing really. I mean, not _nothing_ , we were well on our way to _something_.” His eyes took on a distant look of longing, “It would have been a really great something the way things were going.” He clicked his tongue, “But I had to fuck it all up by telling him my name.”

“Wait,” Hunk shook his head, “he didn’t even know your name?”

“To be fair,” he started rationally, “I didn’t know his either, we were both pretty drunk, and neither of us could really speak with our tongues twisted together.”

“Ew, dude,” Hunk grimaced, “ _details_.”

“Anyway, yeah” Lance shrugged, “I figured out who he was, he figured out who I was, and I left.”

“Really? That’s it?”

“What do you mean, _that’s it_ ? It was _Keith_ and that was enough.” He huffed and signalled for a drink. Much to Hunk’s disappointment, it wasn’t Shay who answered, but her brother. He slid a tall ale across the bar and Lance took it graciously.

“Lance,” Hunk started quietly after a few silent minutes, “what do you mean you ‘ _fucked it all up_ ’ when you told him your name?”

He took a deep breath and stared straight ahead at the taps across the bar. “If I hadn't told him my name, he wouldn't have told me his, and we could have finished what we started before bursting the bubble.”

“Do you _really_ wish you had gone through with it, or are just feeling especially sexually deprived today?”

“Yes.” Lance let out a small whimper, “and you're right, I would feel even worse." He sank lower in his seat and pouted, "Probably would've sucked anyway.”

Did he really believe that? No, much to his displeasure, he genuinely felt like having sex with Keith that night would have been great- that _he_ would have been good at either top or bottom- but he also hated the thought of his arch nemesis being _that_ good in bed. Lance took another large drink and shook his head. He _really_ needed to stop thinking about it so much.

… Not that he'd been thinking about it a lot, because, make no mistake,  _he hadn’t_. Just once or twice, sometimes three times a day. Everyday. For the last two and a half weeks.

Lance looked at his reflection in the dark window over his shoulder and sighed, _I really need to get some so I can get him _ _out of my head_.

“Lance?” Hunk caught his attention again, and he turned back to face his friend. “About meeting with Keith…”

He inhaled through his nose before replying, “What about it?”

“Is that something you'd at least _consider_ doing?”

 _No_. “Have you talked to Pidge already?”

“Well,” Hunk started, “she was the one who was excited about him in the first place.” Lance closed his eyes and internally groaned. “Dude,” Hunk continued with an edge of desperation, “we only have a little less than 2 weeks until registration opens"

"And then another  _month,_ Hunk."

"Yeah and we'll need that month to work on our submissions." Lance rolled his eyes as he continued, "We haven't been able to find _anyone_ , Lance, and it's crunch time. Look, we already know he’s good-”

“Do you?” Lance snapped, “Because _I've_ never heard him, when have you?”

“I can give you the list of qualifications that Shiro gave me if you _really_ need them, but I think the best thing to do would be talking to him in person.”

Lance downed another third of his drink and took in everything Hunk had said. They needed someone two days before yesterday, that much was true, but Keith? Why did it have to be him? Why did it _always_ have to be him? Was there some reason that fate seemed to keep pushing them together? Or was he just cursed?

Lance, of course, believed the latter.

“Fucking _quiznak_ ,” he started, running a hand through his hair, “Fine, _if_ I agree to meet with him, he better be _damn_ good, and I get to make the final decision.”

Hunk considered his offer carefully because, as Shay had said before, it wasn’t _his_ band and he and Pidge should have a say as well. But at the same time, it was Lance who would be affected most by adding Keith, so in that regard, his feelings had more pull on the situation than theirs.

Hunk sighed, “Deal,” he held out his hand for Lance, yet when he went to grab it, Hunk lifted it up slightly to finish listing his terms, “but you have to take our opinions into consideration, and listen to him as _objectively_ as possible.”

He leveled his hand out once more and waited for his friend to meet him. Lance stared at it a moment before hesitantly shaking it. “Deal.” Hunk smiled in victory while Lance hunched over in defeat and grabbed hold of his beer, “I hate you.”

“You love me,” Hunk clapped him on the back, “and you know it.”

“Fine, whatever,” he shrugged him off and grimaced, “just make the call before I come to my senses.”

Hunk looked at his watch face with its bright orange hands pointing to 4:47. He wasn't given any specific time frame to call, but he figured it was only polite to do so between regular business hours (he did also want to do what Lance suggested and call before he changed his mind). So, he scooped the card off the counter and ran outside.

It took exactly two rings before the line was picked up. “ _Hello, this is Takashi.”_

“Hello, Shiro?” He started fighting with the zipper of his vest, “This is Hunk Garrett, um, we, uh, talked at the diner the other day.”

“ _Hunk! Nice to hear from you, hold on a tick so I can step outside real quick._ ” There was a muffled exchange of voices on the other end followed by the sound of a closing door. “ _Sorry, about that._ ”

“Eh,” the door swung open and Shay creeped out, “it's okay?”

“ _So, have you considered what I asked you?_ ”

“Yes, and,” Hunk gulped as she put her ear on the other side of the phone, “we’d like to set up a meeting.”

“ _You talked to your other band mates about this?_ ”

“Well,” He started as Shay looked at him, silently asking the same question. “I know you and Pidge know each other and she’s probably already talked to you, so I can only assume you mean did I talk to Lance.”

“ _And,_ ” Shiro started hesitantly, “ _Did you?_ ”

Hunk held his breath as he replied, “Yes, I did.”

“ _And he’s on board?_ ”

“Eh,” he looked over his shoulder to glance at his friend downing another drink through the window, “I wouldn't say that exactly, but he’s agreed to meet with you guys.”

“ _That's great!_ ”

Hunk sighed and looked at Shay who was giving him a thumbs up, “Yeah, um, when do you want to get together? Also, where?”

“ _Hmmm. We both have a flexible schedule, so when works best for you all?_ ”

“Well,” he scratched at his chin, “we have rehearsals on Wednesdays at 6:30, so if you wanted to meet at 7...”

“ _So, tomorrow?"_

“Ohhh, that is tomorrow isn't it? Quiznak, um,” Hunk pinched the bridge of his nose as he thought about it.

“I think that's a good idea,” Shay whispered, and he hastily covered the speaker of his phone. “At least that way maybe Lance won't have enough time to back out.”

Hunk nodded and brought the phone back to his ear, “You know, that actually sounds perfect.”

“ _So it’s a plan! Where are we meeting?_ ”

“Oh, um,” Hunk whipped his head around to Shay pointing at the big blue lettering directly above the entrance to the bar, “Balmera?”

“ _Won't it be hard to really talk at a place like that?_ ”

“We’re not going to be open tomorrow,” Shay answered in a hurried whisper.

“They won’t be open tomorrow.” Hunk repeated.

“ _How odd, I wonder why."_

“It’s my grandmother's birthday,” she started again quietly, “so we’re closing to celebrate.”

Hunk cleared his throat, “I guess it's the owner's birthday or something.”

“ _A_ _nd they're okay with us using their space?_ ”

“Well,” he smirked, “I know the owner’s granddaughter, and she likes me so it's no problem.”

Shay covered her smile and looked away embarrassed.

“ _As long as you're sure that's okay._ ”

“It is.”

“ _Alright! Then we will see you tomorrow at 7_.”

“Yeah,” Hunk nodded as Shay shot up a victorious fist, “awesome, great, see you then!”

“ _Thanks for calling, Hunk, I'm sure this is going to work out for the best._ ”

“Man,” he sighed, “I certainly hope so.”

“ _Have a good rest of your evening._ ”

“You too, thanks _._ ”

The line clicked and Hunk was seized in a bone crushing hug.

“Oh Hunk,” Shay started excitedly as soon as she let him go, “this is so wonderful!”

“Heh,” he rubbed at his neck and peered back through the window. A cold weight settled in his stomach when he caught sight of Lance looking around the bar. Did he make the right choice? He had permission to set something up, but still, he _knew_ how much Lance disliked Keith and he pushed him anyway. So, maybe it wasn’t the best move to make as his supposed _best friend_ , but they needed someone and Keith might just happen to be that someone. Besides, it was too late now. Hunk let out a heavy sigh, “Yeah.”


	9. Chance of a Lifetime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, my sister's getting married in a week so things have been more than a little hectic. But also, I wanted to release this and the next chapter together.

It was between a hard day at work and what promised to be an even harder night at the gym, and Keith had been abandoned. 

One second Shiro was there, waiting for him to grab his bag from beneath his desk, and the next he was gone with the wind. Keith growled to the space that had been his brother and hiked up his bag. His muscles, still tender from the workout he'd been put through the night before, protested as he walked through the glass doors and out into the evening; the ,winter air was as crisp as the desert would allow, and Keith's work fogged brain welcomed it. 

“...for calling, Hunk,” Shiro’s voice caught his attention a little ways down the block, “I'm sure this is going to work out for the best.” 

As Keith stepped closer, he eyed his brother curiously. Shiro shot him a nervous look and turned away. Interesting.

“Have a good rest of your evening.” Shiro cleared his throat loudly before turning around and greeting Keith, “Hey!”

“Hey…” he replied cautiously.

_ Shiro sucked _ in a big breath, “Got all your stuff, I see.”

“What was that all about?”

“Er-” He nervously rubbed at his neck, “Are you hungry? Because I'm starved!”

“I thought it was leg day,” Keith started, “and don't change the subject.”

“I think we can afford to skip  _ one  _ leg day.” He replied nonchalantly, “Why don't you come over and I'll grill some chicken instead?”

“Shiro, what-”

“Keith,” he interrupted,  “I'll talk to you about over dinner.”

“Is something wrong?”

“No,” Shiro smiled and clapped Keith’s shoulder, “not at all.”

“Then why are you being so weird?” He asked as they began walking to Shiro’s car. 

“All in good time, Keith, all in good time.”

The drive itself wasn't long, and no matter how much he pressed, Shiro gave nothing away until they were walking through the door of his little house. 

“C’mon, Shiro,” Keith started once they were inside, “at least tell me who were you talking to. Do I know them?”

To that Shiro smiled mischievously, “You might.”

It was almost sad how short the list of names was that Keith ran through in attempt to narrow down the choices; on the other hand, he had more of a chance to guess it right. “Alex?”

Shiro made no acknowledgement as he continued prepping dinner. 

“Diana? Iverson? Kolivan? Thace?” He began listing people on his fingers, waiting for some sort of response, “Matt? Even though I don't really know him at all…” Nothing. Keith frowned, “Ryner?”

“You can keep throwing darts at nothing,” Shiro asked over his shoulder, “or you can try to be patient so I can at least get the chicken going.”

Keith cocked his jaw and studied him intently, “Was it someone I would talk to?”

Shiro sighed, “Keith…”

“What?” He shrugged, “You've got to give me  _ something _ .”

Shiro shook his head in exasperation, “I guess, I don't see why you wouldn't talk to them.”

“Good,” Keith relaxed back into the couch, “for a second there I was afraid it was someone like Lance.”

And there it was, the ever slight tense of his brother’s shoulders that he’d been waiting for. 

Keith straightened back up and leaned his elbows on his knees, “Please tell me that's not who you were talking to.”

“It wasn't,” he answered in a less than convincing tone.

“Shit, Shiro!” Keith covered his face in his hands and groaned.

Shiro’s sigh was almost drowned out by the sizzle of the cold chicken breasts in the searing pan. “Calm down, Keith,” He turned around to look at him, “I really didn't talk to Lance, but I did talk to his friend.”

“Why?” Keith sneered. 

“Because,” He took a deep breath and grabbed a paper hanging from his fridge door, “well, I think you could help each other.” 

“What’s this?” Keith asked as he hesitantly took the small flyer from his hand.

Shiro held his eyes thoughtfully, “A clean way out.”

He read it once- a quick glance really- then he read it again- grip tightening as his eyes scanned down the page. 

_ What is this? Can it really…? Is he crazy!? _

“You expect me,” Keith started in a trance like state, eyes never leaving the paper, “to enter a competition for a contract with the biggest threat to Galra’s musical empire?”

“Of course not.” Shiro answered seriously, “That’d be crazy.” He cracked a lopsided smile, “I expect you to _ win _ it.” 

Keith stared at him completely dumbfounded. “You're kidding, right?”

“Why would I be?” Shiro shrugged on his way back to tend to the sizzling pan.

“Because, Zarkon-”

He turned on his heel and cut him off in an exhaustive sigh, “Zarkon will  _ what _ , Keith?” Shiro smiled solemnly, “You keep thinking too much about what Zarkon will think or say or do, where's the kid who did whatever he could to defy his crazy uncle at every turn?”

Keith tightened his jaw, his fingers automatically went to his cheek, gently rubbing over the ghosts of bruises past, “Guess he got knocked down one too many times.”

Shiro walked back to the couch and bent his knees to get down to his eye level, “I don't believe that. Not for one second.”

Keith took a deep breath and looked back to the flyer still in his hands. 

He hated this, hated hearing exactly what he’d been telling himself for the last few months _.  _ There was no more fight in him, not toward Zarkon, which was probably why it played itself out on unsuspecting delinquents who always wanted to start something. 

The hatred was still there,  _ burning _ in his soul, but he was used to it and, frankly, he was  tired of fighting only to lose time and time again. Afterall, the last time he tried, really tried to get himself out from Zarkon’s thumb, he ended up falling way off the deep end, and it took  _ everything _ he had to get back on his feet.  _ Still _ , he thought as his eyes flicked over the paper again,  _ this time it's Shiro who’s suggesting it _ .

“So,” he started, meeting Shiro’s eyes seriously, “the only way to get in this thing is by playing with  _ Lance’s _ band?”

“It's not the only way,” Shiro shrugged, “but I think they're your best chance at winning.”

“Lance?” Keith groaned, “Why does it have to be him?”

“Maybe,” Shiro started as he got back to his feet, “fate brought you to back together for this.”

Keith rolled his eyes.  _ Or maybe, and more likely, whatever higher power that doesn't exist up there just hates me _ .

“Anyway,” Shiro started again, now adding chopped peppers to the chicken, “They need a bassist or a guitarist, just depends on whatever Lance thinks you'd be better on.” 

Keith sneered, “I'd be better than him on either.” 

He raised his eyebrows, “Ever consider that your attitude is exactly why he has a problem with you?”

“Tch.” Keith crossed his arms and suck into the couch, “Whatever.”

“We’re meeting them tomorrow at 7.” 

“I never agreed to go.” Keith contested, “As far as I'm concerned, they can go ahead and find somebody else.”

“Keith,” Shiro shook his head, “are you saying you’d rather stay at Galra, under Zarkon’s control forever?”

“Not forever,” he started, “just until I can get something else lined up.”

“Something else that will give you a clean start where you can actually do what you love for  _ yourself _ instead of a spoiled prince?” Shiro scoffed, “Good luck with that.” 

Keith didn't say anything else, just watched, deep in thought as Shiro began cleaning an array of vegetables. 

He was right, of course. They both knew it. This kind of opportunity may never come around again, and even if it eventually did, could Keith really hold out that long?

_ Could Shiro? _ He asked himself as he watched his older brother dump the contents of the strainer into a new skillet. He knew Shiro hated the job and was still only with Galra for his sake. Which, selfishly, Keith appreciated, but he deserved better. They both did. 

“Shiro,” Keith started slowly, “How'd you find all this out?”

“Matt’s little sister is playing with them,” He shrugged, “and she put me in contact with Hunk, their drummer who I was on the phone with earlier.”

“Ah” Keith nodded. “So, what did you tell them about me?”

Shiro smiled over his shoulder, “I told them that you're the best that I know.” 

“Best at what?”

“Everything,” he winked. 

Keith snorted, “7, huh?”

Shiro stopped what he was doing and turned around, “Is that a  _ yes _ ?”

Keith inhaled slowly, “It's a ‘I guess I can  _ meet _ with them’.”

Shiro smiled widely, “That's all I ask.” 


	10. Common Ground

Lance paced nervously in front of their table. The bar was eerily quiet so each step echoed and creaked around him. They were late, the bastards, but what else could he expect from Keith Kogane? _Some things never change._

Pidge had her feet up on the table and was gone from the world and into her own cyberspace. Hunk tried to ignore Lance’s restlessness by keeping busy and setting things up on the stage. When the giant clock over the pool table struck 7:10, Lance stopped dead in his tracks, Hunk shifted his focus between he and the door, even Pidge pulled out an earbud and craned her neck.

The minute seemed heavy, endless, and in it, Lance swore he could feel every blood vessel hammering through his heart. Then it passed, the larger hand ticked forward, and Lance let out a heavy sigh of relief.

“Well,” he started, clapping his hands together, “I guess that's that.”

Hunk held up his hand, “Just hold on a few more ticks.”

“Na-uh,” Lance started with his hands on his hips, “We agreed to wait 10 minutes before calling it. _10_ Minutes. No more. No less.”

Hunk turned his head toward their other member,  “What do you think, Pidge?”

She sat up and sighed, “I can try calling him again?”

“We've called twice.” Lance crossed his arms and grumbled, “Least they could've done was answer to tell us they weren't coming. Inconsiderate jerks.”

“Shiro’s never late,” she defended, “something must have come up.”

“Whatever,” he shrugged before scooping up his backpack from the chair. “They're late, and I'm out. That was the deal.”

“Dude-” Hunk started, but was cut off by the ringing of the tiny bell above the door.

Before he could help it, Lance collided with a solid black guitar case that sent him stumbling back. A rough hand caught his arm before he hit the floor and pulled him back to his feet.

“You okay?” His savior asked with his hand still clasped to Lance’s sleeve.

As soon as Lance met his dark purple eyes, he pushed the hand away and scowled, “Watch where you're going, pal.”

“Wow,” Keith blinked, “You're welcome for catching you before falling on your ass.”

“Well if you had been paying attention, I wouldn't have lost my balance.”

Keith stepped forward, “What’s your problem, McClain?”

Lance matched him so they were nearly chest to chest, “What do you _think_ , Kogane?”

Keith opened his mouth to reply when Shiro appeared in the doorway behind him carrying a smaller black guitar case, “Sorry we’re late guys!”

Pidge threw a crumpled flyer at him, hitting him square in the chest. “You should've called me back.”

“I'm sorry, Pidge.”

“What kept you?”

Shiro casted Keith an annoyed glance, “ _Somebody_ just had to catch up on their beauty sleep.”

“It’s, uh,” Hunk started from the stage, “past 7 O’clock at _night_ …”

Lance studied Keith and scoffed, “Obviously that still wasn't enough.”

That was a lie. As he did a quick scan of his body, Lance internally came to the conclusion that he probably doesn’t even _need_ beauty sleep.

Keith glared, “For your information, I had a long day, what's _your_ excuse?” He smirked, “Run out of moisturizer?”

Lance curled his lip and let his bag drop as he stepped closer, “Why you-”

“Boys!” Shiro put a hand between them, “Drop it. We have more important things to discuss.”

They both deflated, and Lance reluctantly made his way back to the table. Once he dropped into his seat between Hunk and Pidge, he openly gestured to the chairs on the other side. He watched Keith hesitate a moment before following Shiro over.

 _What’s_ _his_ _problem?_

“So,” Hunk started once everyone had been introduced to each other and seated, “Thanks for meeting. Um, I'm not really sure how we should go about this…”

“He needs to play for us.” Lance stated, eyes staying glued to his advisory.

Keith crossed his arms, “No shit, Sherlock.”

“ _Keith_.” Shiro hissed and the younger man rolled his eyes. He sighed and replied to Hunk, “I think we should lay down some rules-”

“ _After_ we hear him play.” Lance interrupted. “I don't want to be here any longer than I _have_ to.”

“Why?” Keith crossed his arms, “Got somewhere else to be?”

“Yeah,” Lance smirked, a lie on his lips ready to be fired just to see how the shot would land, “actually I have a _date_.”

“What?” Pidge started laughing at Lance, “Since wh- _Ow!_ ” He shut her up with a hard kick to her shin. Luckily, Keith seemed to be too distracted glaring at the surface of the table to hear her. Lance got a sick kind of satisfaction as he watched the impact in the way Keith’s jaw tighten, and in the subtle flare of his nostrils as he shifted his glare up to meet his eyes.

“Heh.” Keith let out a sharp breath, “I guess we shouldn’t keep you then.”

“No,” Lance smiled triumphantly, “You shouldn’t.”

“God, you’re an ass.” Keith scoffed.

“Back at you, babe.” Lance winked without thinking, then instantly regretted it as Keith raised his eyebrows. _Dude,_ he bit the inside of his cheek and hastily looked away, _what the hell!?_

“Um,” Pidge glanced nervously between the two, “Am I missing something? I knew you guys didn’t get along, but what’s up with this level of hostility? Did you two, like, date or something?”

“WHAT!?” They started in unison, jumping to their feet, “ _NO!_ ”

“Sorry,” Pidge held up her hands, “my mistake, yeesh.”

Lance slouched back into his seat and pouted at Hunk who was trying (and failing) to hide his laughter. Keith stayed on his feet and grabbed the larger black case he left beside a neighboring table.

After he got out his bass, he turned back to look directly at Lance, “Where do you want me?”

Lance’s mouth went dry, “Excuse me?”

“Where do you want me?” Keith drew out slower as if he misheard him.

Lance’s words faltered before he could say something stupid like ‘in the ground’ or ‘on my lap’. _Don't answer that question, Lance, do not _ _answer._

“The stage is fine, I guess,” Hunk replied for him. Keith nodded once before setting up and sitting in the stool in front of the mic. “I mean, if you're ready?”

“Yeah, I'm ready.” Keith nodded, settling the bass in his lap. He quickly checked that the guitar was still in tune. “Hey, Shiro,” he started awkwardly, “do you mind giving me a beat?” He looked between them all frantically, “I mean, whoever can, I-I don’t care it’s just that Shiro-”

“Dude, it’s okay,” Hunk interrupted with his hand up. Everyone looked at him as he shrugged, “There’s an extra pair of drumsticks on the speaker.”

“Are you sure you don't want to do it?” Shiro asked.

He shook his head, “Nah. I'd rather be able to pay full attention.”

“Okay,” Shiro smiled. “Thanks, Hunk,” he stepped onto the stage and settled behind the drumset. “What are you playing, Keith?”

“I don't know yet.” He shrugged, “I figured I'll make it up as I go.”

“Pft. That's inspiring,” Lance grumbled.

“Well, is there anything in particular you _want_ me to play, Starboy?”  Keith asked sardonically as he pulled the guitar strap over his head.

Or maybe not sardonically. Lance wasn’t ever sure because one second Keith would be throwing major shade, and the next Lance had to explain what he meant when he said ‘ _yeah, that’s just_ _wonderful_ ’ as their project was literally on fire.

Lance crossed his arms, rolled his eyes, and promptly ignored Pidge’s raised eyebrows as she mouthed ‘ _Starboy?_ ’ “Whatever you think will win me over, Mullet.”

Keith looked between the two other band members and raised his eyebrow, “Aren't I playing for _all_ of you?”

Pidge puffed up her chest and smirked at Lance, “Yeah, _Starboy_ -”

 _Why is she here_ again _?_

“-Don't _we_ have a say in it?”

“Of course you do!” Lance started mockingly, “You can say things like ‘ _That's a great decision, Lance!_ ’ or ‘ _I totally support you!’_.”

Pidge replied by sticking her tongue out. Hunk shook his head in his palm as Lance glared. Poor Shiro looked as though he couldn't decide whether he was confused or amused, and Keith definitely looked the former.

He cleared his throat,  “Er-”

“ _Just play something_.” Lance snapped.

Keith looked back at Shiro who nodded his encouragement, and took a deep breath. As much as it pained him to admit, Lance knew Keith had probably made up songs on a whim a thousand times before, but this time, Lance could tell that something was off. It was barely noticeable, but, for whatever reason, Keith Kogane looked _nervous_ . Yet, none of those nerves made themselves known as Shiro made the first beat, and his fingers met the thick metal [ strings ](https://youtu.be/eteFo483GUs).

 _Dammit_ . Lance internally cursed, _Of course_ _he's good_.  

Really good, maybe better than even he was on bass, but Lance wasn't ready to admit _that_ much to himself right then. On either side, Hunk and Pidge seemed to be moving with the music with approving smiles.

 _Great,_ Lance suppressed an eye roll, _he's already won them over_.

Lance had the final say, he knew that, but currently wasn't finding much pleasure in it. True, a large part of him kind of _expected_ Keith to be this good, but he'd still held out hope that one or both of his friends would disapprove (he was honestly banking on Pidge because of her natural cynicism). But no, they were both watching Keith with hopeful eyes that made a rock settle in the bottom Lance stomach. How could he say no to Keith now?

The start of registration was just around the corner which meant that the deadline would be coming up fast, so he no longer had the luxury of being picky. Not that Keith would be a ‘beggars can't be choosers’ kind of choice, he was better than that analogy, so Lance knew that if he still said no, it'd be purely out of his own spite and that wasn’t fair to the band.

_Quiznak._

As he continued, Keith kept intermediately glancing up at Lance, and as his scowl deepened, Lance swore Keith's smug smirk widened. It was a small smirk, barely a tug at the very corner of his lips, but Lance saw it and then shook himself because there was absolutely _no_ reason he should be staring at Keith’s lips.

 _Yeah, bet my imaginary date wouldn’t like_ _that_ _very much._ He rubbed at his temples, _What's wrong with me?_

Once the improv song came to an end, Pidge and Hunk bursted into applause at his side. A fresh shade of pink dusted Keith’s cheeks until his eyes settled back on Lance, and he nervously waited for him to respond in some way. Instead, Lance could only stare as he tried to come up with something to say that wouldn’t make him sound stupid (or worse, anything that sounded remotely like a compliment). The bar went quiet as everyone shifted their focus to him and waited.

It was short lived as Pidge punched his arm, “Dude!”

“Quiznak, Pidge,” he clutched his arm, “that hurt!”

“Well,” she started in a hurried whisper, “say something.”

“Or,” Hunk started cautiously, “maybe take as much time as you need to _think_ before you speak?”

Pidge leaned in, “But he’s good, isn’t he?”

“Pft,” Lance scoffed, “I could do that.”

“No offense, man,” Hunk started, “but no, you couldn’t, not that easily.” Lance pouted lower in his chair, “You know it’s _okay_ for him to be better at bass than you-”

“He’s not better than me!” Lance defended himself a notch louder than they had been talking, and he saw Shiro sigh heavily. _Oh what does he know?_

“He is.” Pidge deadpanned, “But even if he wasn’t, would you rather him play something else or sing? Because, like it or not, Buttercup, we’re one man short.”

“It doesn’t _have_ to be him.” Lance bit back.

“True, but I, personally, would like whomever it _will_ be to at least have a sliver of talent, wouldn’t you?”

“She has a point, Lance,” Hunk offered. “We need someone like him.”

Lance wanted to respond by saying something like ‘ _Aren’t you guys supposed to be my friends?’_ but he knew this wasn’t about that. This was about their band, their futures, so their opinions were perfectly valid, and Lance had to keep that in mind before making a decision. Still, he _did_ have the final say, and who was stopping him from putting Keith through one more test before accepting his place.

“Okay, fine,” Lance shrugged nonchalantly in a normal voice, catching both Keith and Shiro’s attention, “so he can slap-a-da-bass, but can Mr. Perfect sing?”

Keith eyed him curiously, “Do you _need_ me to sing?”

“Yeah, Lance,” Hunk whispered out of the side of his mouth, “What are you doing?”

“Are you saying you can’t do it?” Lance challenged, ignoring Hunk’s question entirely.

“No I just-”

“Because if you can’t-”

“I _can_ but-”

“We can always find someone else.”

Keith glared, “Fine.”

He walked purposely back to the neighboring table and switched his slick red bass for a soft grey acoustic guitar.

“Someone came prepared,” Lance commented offhandedly.

“Well,” Shiro started from where he stayed seated behind the drumset, “we weren’t sure what you might want to hear from him, so I made him grab both.”

“Of course you did.” Lance mumbled.

“Seriously?” Pidge hissed.

“Shh,” Lance waved her off, “I just want to see if he can do it, okay?”

“Yeah,” She snorted, “ _That’s mature_.”

“Guys,” Hunk cut in, “Please be quiet.”

This time Keith didn’t wait for them, didn’t ask for requests, even ignored their hushed bickering, and just sat down and [ started ](https://youtu.be/PFSElbPd6Sg?t=10s).

_“Why can’t you want me like the other boys do?”_

Everyone’s attention snapped back to the stage.

_“They stare at me while I stare at you_

_Why can’t I keep you safe on my own_

_One moment I have you_

_The next you are gone”_

Lance crossed his arm as his plan blew up in his face. What else was he expecting?

_Of course the guy can sing, he’s perfect, remember?_

_“Rehearsed steps on an empty stage_

_That boy’s got my heart in a silver cage_

_Why can’t you want me like the other boys do?_

_They stare at me while I_

_Crave you”_

Shiro smiled and joined in as Lance stopped his jaw from dropping. His voice was soft, ethereal in nature, and yet so _warm_ . Lance felt as though it was cutting right to his center and melting into him. Almost the same way he felt when Keith’s body was pressed against his as their hearts beat side by side. _Fuck, no, don’t think about that!_

_“I walked into the room dripping in gold_

_Dripping in gold”_

_Or black_ , as Lance remembered it.

_“I walked into the room dripping in Gold_

_Yeah dripping in gold_

_A wave of heads did turn_

_Or so I’ve been told”_

Lance almost smiled, _as if you could walk into a room without being noticed_ . _Shit,_ _no_ _stop!_ He shook his head, desperately trying to push away any lingering thoughts of the last time they were together...

_“Or so I’ve been told_

_My heart broke when I saw you kept your gaze controlled”_

...Of Keith’s hands running up his back...

_“I cannot solve_

_Why can’t you want me like the other boys do?"_

...Or his hot tongue on his collarbone...

_"They stare at me while I stare at you"_

...A husky voice ringing against the shell of his ear...

_Why can’t I keep you safe on my own?_

_One moment I have you-”_

...His soft laughter across a small bar top...

_“The next you are gone-”_

...Then cold air hitting Lance’s bare chest as he stormed out the door.

_“Rehearsed steps on an empty stage"_

Lance shifted his focus on the way Keith’s long neck moved as he sang-

_That boy’s got my heart in a silver cage”_

He remembered how Keith's pulse hammered under his tongue as he moved to nibble at his jaw

_"Why can’t you want me like the other boys do?"_

...And the sounds he made when his thumb-

_"They stare at me while I”_

Keith looked up then, locking their eyes, and finally silencing Lance’s mind.

_“Crave you”_

Lance felt his heart skip.

_“It’s true I crave you_

_It’s true I crave you.”_

Unlike last time, when the song came to an end, the last note was left to echo in the empty space. It was time for Lance to make the final call. _Well,_ Lance’s mouth went dry, _fuck._

Hunk patted his back sympathetically as if he could read Lance’s mind, which at this point, he probably could, and Lance could only shake his head in defeat. This was it. Keith was in. There was no way around it, and they all knew it. Except maybe Keith himself because he still looked on edge as he waited, once again, for someone to _say_ _something_.

Pidge moved her glasses down her nose to look at Lance, Hunk half shrugged, and Lance took a deep breath before speaking, “Rehearsals are Tuesday and Thursday at 5, and Wednesday, obviously at 7.”

“So….” Keith started skeptically, “Does that mean I can join you guys?”

Lance waited for one of his friends to answer, but they both sat back with smug grins. So he sighed and made himself meet Keith’s deep purple eyes.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I guess so.”

Keith’s shoulders visibly relaxed, but his eyes still burned into Lance’s, silently asking if he was being serious. He granted him with the tiniest of nods and Keith let out a sigh of relief.

“That's great!” Shiro exclaimed as he got to his feet, “I’m sure that as long as you all work together, you can come up with record worthy music.”

“Stop being so sappy, Shiro.” Pidge quipped with a sarcastic smile.

“No, really,” Hunk started getting to his feet, “Thanks to both of you for even coming.”

Shiro smiled widely as he clapped Keith on the shoulder, “It’s really no problem, I’m just happy everything worked out.”

They continued chatting while the two supposed enemies held each other’s eyes until, eventually, and from what seemed like a far off distance, Lance heard his name.

“Huh?” He broke from Keith’s striking gaze to find Hunk looking at him quizzing.

“Do you have a minute to hash some things out?” Shiro asked.

“Um,” Lance cleared his throat, “Yeah, I guess.”

“Don’t you have a-” Keith’s cold voice cut straight through him, “ _date_ to get to?”

 _Oh quiznak._ “Yes, I-I do.”

Shiro gave him a sad smile, “Okay, well have fun tonight, and we’ll just reschedule.”

“What?” Pidge interjected, “Why? We can just fill him in later.”

“No,” Shiro started surely, “he should be there when we go over things.”

Lance waved his hands, “That’s not necessary, really, I’m good with whatever you decide.”

“Actually,” Hunk joined in, “I’m with Shiro on this. You need to be there.”

“Why?”

Hunk’s face fell and he deadpanned, “Why do you think?”

Lance replied with an expression that screamed _‘touche’_. “Fine, when do you have in mind?”

“How about at practice tomorrow?” Keith offered, “I’ll be off by then.”

“Okay.” Hunk answered.

Pidge nodded, “I can do that.”

And Lance took a moment to consider. He didn’t _want_ to, but he was stuck with Keith now anyway and he had to learn to get over it. “Yeah, sure, whatever.”

“You should go,” Keith stated casually, but there was an underlying venom with each word.

_Why does he seem so… irritated?_

“You wouldn’t want to keep them waiting.”

“You’re right, I’ll just-” Lance awkwardly gestured behind him, “leave, I guess.”

“Good.”

“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck before glancing back up, “I guess I’ll see you later.”

Keith’s face was unreadable, “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Okay, well, um,” Lance looked around at the rest of the people in the room and tried to ignore their all very unique expressions of intrigue, “Have a goodnight.”

Pidge was on his heel as he left, and as soon as the door closed behind them, she let out a low whistle, “Holy quiznak, _that_ was awkward.”

“Shut up.”

They walked about half a block before she spoke again, “There’s no date, is there?”

“Nope.”

“Why did you lie?”

Lance sighed, “I guess I wanted to see how he’d react.”

“Hm.” She nodded thoughtfully, “That’s possibly the stupidest thing I’ve heard in a long time.”

“Yeah,” he rolled his eyes, “I can see that _now_.”

“Are you _sure_ you two didn’t date?” She looked up at him unconvinced, "Because you act as if you've dated."

Lance stopped and grimaced, “Dated? No. _Made out_ , on the other hand? Eh… a few times.”

“A few times?” Pidge raised an eyebrow, "I thought you said you hated him."

"I do." He started prickly, "And it's not like it's ever going to happen again."

"But you want it to?"

"What!?" Lance felt his ears turn red, "No! Didn't you hear me?"

"I did, and, honestly I don't believe you."

"You don't have to," he picked up his pace again, "I'll hate him either way."

She looked at him a few moments as if she were trying to crack some kind of code, then she shook her head, "You don't make any sense to me."

He shrugged his shoulders to his ears and ducked his head as he walked, _I don't make any sense to me either._


	11. Past and Pending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snapshot of what really started it all.

_6 Years, 10 Months, and 18 Days Ago:_

The day was grey and muggy as heavy clouds loomed over the city. Lance held his jacket at the ready just in case the sky decided to open up on them, but Keith was unconcerned.He was more than prepared to welcome the cool droplets.

It’d barely been two weeks since they had been paired together, and Lance had volunteered his room as home base. Keith was just glad he had offered first because it saved him the embarrassment of explaining why his new place wasn’t an option. He hadn’t even finished unpacking his new room; moreover, he absolutely didn’t want to have to ask his uncle permission. He figured it’d be better if his uncle just forgot he was there, so he did his best to stay as out of the way as much as possible. That being said, Keith Kogane was a little nervous to go to his science fair partner’s house. It didn’t make sense, but his heart seemed to pick up with every step.

Lance was yammering, had been ever since they’d left the school. He started with an ominous weather forecast which somehow turned into an enthusiastic recap of his favorite tv show that had premiered the night before, and eventually shifted to how one of their teachers reminded him of one of the villains in said show and how much that made him wonder whether or not that teacher was, in fact evil.

“It’s entirely possible,” he’d argued, “he always yells at me in class for no reason.”

“Right,” Keith had scoffed, “because talking while he lectures isn’t a reason.”

“That’s what I’m saying!”

“And neither is falling asleep?”

“Well-”

“Or conveniently losing your homework all the time?”

Lance glared dangerously, “My _point_ is that he could very well be an evil mastermind.”

“Posing as a 9th grade English teacher?” Keith asked sarcastically.

“Exactly!” Lance snapped his fingers, “Nobody would suspect it!”

From there, the conversation drifted to what they thought about the rest of the staff, and if either of them felt ready for the week of standardized testing coming up within the month. The answer was no. No they were not.

Then, just as they were letting their guard down with the dark sky, it opened above them.

“Son of a quiznak!” Lance grumbled as he held his jacket over his head and broke into a jog. Keith followed on his heel without bothering to cover himself. They ran a few blocks before Lance turned into a cracked pathway leading to a bright red door.

Keith’s footsteps faltered at the first square of concrete. He stood in the pouring rain and scanned the single story home with it’s chipping green paint and off white shutters. He took in the flowerbed full of bright red Zinnias, the black bike haphazardly abandoned halfway through the lawn, and the colorful wind chimes playing melodically along with the pattering on the roof of the small porch. The television could be heard through the open window holding in a store bought air conditioner, as could the inconsistent harmony of sharp yaps and deep barks. Even from the where he stood on the sidewalk, everything about it was so full of life, like a real home and it made an uneasy weight settle in Keith’s chest.

Lance stopped with his hand on the door knob and watched Keith curiously.

“You okay?” He asked.

Keith nodded, “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Then why are you all the way back there?”

“N-no reason.” He rubbed his arm and made himself walk to the end of the path.

“You’re soaked!” Lance pulled him beneath the porch roof, “Are you crazy?”

Keith’s breath caught and he tried to play it off by shrugging, “I-I don’t mind the rain.”

“That’s nice,” Lance started condescendingly, “but my mother _does_ mind wet carpet, so just wait here a tik.”

“You’re wet too!” Keith argued.

“Not as much as you.” Lance responded before slipping inside. Keith waited with crossed arms as anxiety continued to claw at him. He looked over his shoulder to the street.

_If I run now I’ll can still make it before-_

The door swung open before he had a chance to finish his thought, and in it stood Lance with a towel in hand. Lance tossed it over, “Here.”

Keith caught it before it hit his chest, “Thanks.”

Lance nodded and watched as Keith tried to quickly pat himself dry. “That’s probably as dry as you’ll be able to get.”

He stepped aside, gesturing to Keith to come in. Keith took a bracing breath and stepped through the foyer.

“Lance, es usted, mi hijo?” A sweet voice called from the kitchen. Keith felt his throat tighten.

“Si, mamá,” Lance answered quickly leading the way to the hall.

“Pensé que estabas en la biblioteca,” She started wringing her hands in a towel as she walked out of the kitchen. She stopped at the sight of Keith and smiled, “Oh, hello!”

She was noticeably shorter than her son, but look very much like him. She had the same delicate cheekbones, his soft smile and wide eyes- though they were honey brown instead of dark sapphire. Her black hair was twisted back into a sloppy bun and she wore a bright green apron over her clothes.

“Er-” Keith gulped, “H-hi.”

“Lance,” she turned her eyes to her son, “I didn’t know you had a friend coming, why didn’t you tell me?”

“El no es mi amigo.” Lance grumbled which earned him a sharp scowl from his mother, he sighed, “We’re working on a project.”

“Ah,” she started with a knowing look and extended her hand, “So _you_ must be Keith.”

“Um,” Keith looked at Lance who had his face buried in his palm before he shyly accepted her handshake, “Y-yeah.”

She smiled and leaned in, “You’re much cuter than he said. I can see why-”

“MAMÁ!” Lance interrupted, pushing between them. “No le digas eso!”

“Por qué? Si no le vas a decir…”

“Mamá!”

“Bien, cálmate.” She laughed, “Mis labios están sellados.”

Lance casted Keith a nervous look, but the poor boy was completely lost in the conversation and had taken to studying the family photos ordaining the walls.

“Mi hijo, Keith,” Lance’s mother called their attention back to her, “You’re both soaking wet.”

“It _is_ raining, mamá,” Lance snarked. “What did you expect?”

She narrowed her eyes, “Aún tu lengua o yo la cortaré.”

His shoulders slumped, “Sorry.”

“Keith,” she smiled at him, “Why don’t you borrow some of Lance’s clothes, and I’ll put yours in the dryer.”

“What?” Lance whined.

“I’m okay, Mrs. McClain,” Keith tried to appease her.

“Oh, sweetie, you don’t want to be uncomfortable, I insist.” Then she looked back at her son seriously, “Lance, go find him something.”

Keith gulped and held up his hand, “No, really-”

“There’s no point, Keith,” Lance cut in, “better just do what she says.”

Lance walked past him and led the way to his room halfway down the hall, his mother smiled sweetly and waved them off. The room was decently sized, but was a mess. At least, a good portion of it was. Clothes were strewn everywhere, the bottom bunk wasn’t made, and one of the desks in the corner was so cluttered, Keith wasn’t even sure there was anything under there. Yet, the other one on the opposite wall was immaculate, the top bunk’s corners were tucked in, and there was one full hamper beside the closet.

“Dammit, José,” Lance grumbled as he hastily began picking up all the dirty laundry. “Sorry, my brother’s kind of a slob.”

“You share a room?” Keith asked genuinely.

“Yeah, what of it?” Lance answered defensively.

“Nothing, I just think that’s cool.”

“Oh,” Lance deflated, “how?”

He shrugged, “I don’t have any siblings to share a room with.”

“Well,” Lance replied as he began rummaging through his dresser, “trust me when I say you’re not missing out on anything.”

Keith frowned. _You really have no idea how lucky you are, do you?_

“Here,” Lance started when he pulled out a plain grey tee and a pair of dark sweatpants. “This okay?”

Keith took them with a nod, “Thanks.”

“You’re welc-WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?”

“Um,” Keith looked at him with his shirt halfway up his chest, “changing?”

“Can’t you do that somewhere else?”

“Like where?”

Lance looked around frantically, “I don’t know, go to the bathroom!”

“Why?” he finished pulling his wet shirt off, “It’s just us.”

Lance gaped at him and shook his head, “Right, yeah, it’s just,” he gulped, “ _us_.”

Keith grabbed the damp towel he’d carried with him and began patting dry his chest. He watched his classmate curiously as he tripped over himself turning away. _What’s up with him?_

His eyes were still studying him as the hem of Lance’s shirt was slowly moving up his back and over his head; Keith hardly stifled a gasp before redirecting his attention to the wall in front of him. _Man, I guess I really_ _should_ _have asked where the bathroom was._

Suddenly very embarrassed, Keith took a deep breath and changed as quickly as possible, hoping to be finished before Lance. They kept their backs to each other until they each confirmed that the other was completely dressed, then Lance disappeared with both their wet laundry.

Lance’s clothes were soft and warm and smelled slightly of vanilla and cinnamon. It was the perfect mix for absolute comfort, but Keith sat, more nervous than ever as he waited for his host to get back from throwing his clothes in the dryer. Thank God his underwear had been spared- that would have been one mortification he may not have recovered from. Lance returned with arms filled with snacks (at least three types of chips and dip),

He sighed in response to Keith’s questioning expression, “My mom didn’t know what you might want, so she made me bring everything we have.”

“Oh,” Keith started, “I’m not hungry.”

“Well,” Lance’s face fell, “I don’t give a quiznak. So, unless _you_ want to tell her that you’re refusing her hospitality, I’m not taking them back.”

Keith gulped at the thought. Mrs. McClain seemed like a lovely woman, sweet and wholehearted, but she also gave off the vibe that she was a force to be reckoned with. “No, no” he started with his hands up, “It’s fine, I’ll eat.”

By that point, Lance had already plopped into the beanbag in the corner of the room and was elbows deep in a bag of Doritos. “Too late, pal. You missed your chance.”

“Fine.” Keith rolled his eyes and began unpacking his backpack (very relieved to see that the rain hadn’t soaked all the way through). He smiled to himself, _Guess the Old Man was right about this thing being useful._

His heart sank; he didn’t want to think about that, especially not in front of someone like Lance who had a home filled with the warmth and love of his family. How could he ever understand?

“You okay, dude?” Lance asked, casually wiping off the cheese dust onto his jeans.

“Hm?” Keith shook his head, “Oh, yeah.”

Lance eyed him suspiciously, but accepted his answer with a nod. “So, why don’t you research scientist and I’ll do their theories?”

“Sounds good to me.” Keith replied as he rolled his shoulders and opened his laptop.

They worked in silence for a solid 14 minutes before Keith had a half rolled bag of chips land at his side. He looked up to see Lance nervously rubbing his neck, “I was just kidding.”

“About what?”

“About, you know,” he shrugged, “the snacks.” Keith raised his eyebrow, “W-when I said…”

“When you said, what?”

“Nothing, never mind.”

Keith took a chip from the bag and held it up for inspection, “You mean the ‘too late’ thing?”

“Just eat them!” Lance’s ears turned red and he looked away, “Or don’t, whatever, I don’t care.”

Keith cocked his head in confusion as Lance hastily took up his computer again, and crunched into the chip between his fingers, “Thanks, Lance.”

Lance hunched his shoulders closer to the screen so that his face was almost completely hidden behind it, “No problemo, Keith.”

Unable to see Lance silently berating himself, Keith smiled and grabbed another chip. And another. And another. And before he knew it, 15 minutes had gone by, his screen had gone to sleep, and the bag was nearly empty.

“Geez, dude,” Lance started with a concerning look. “I thought you said you weren't hungry.”

“I'm not,” Keith argued just before his stomach loudly contested with an echoing growl. Lance crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Okay, maybe I'm a little hungry.”

“Do you want, like, _actual_ food?”

Keith shook his head in earnest, “No, really, I'm good now.”

His stomach gave another small whimper and Lance’s face fell, “Well, i-if you want, you can stay here for dinner. I’m sure my mom won’t mind.”

Keith held up his hands, “No,” _I don’t want you to pity me too._ “I can’t.”

“Oh,” Lance’s shoulder slumped, “Okay, then when is your family expecting you back? We can probably give you a ride if you need one.”

Somewhere between the time it took for him to process the question and absently rake his mind for an answer, he remembered that he no longer _had_ anyone to make him dinner. “M-my fam-?” He began stammering incoherently as his throat closed up and his heart began to hammer. “I-I don’t-" He hastily got to his feet and the world around him seemed to shift, “Where's the bathroom?”

Lance studied him cautiously, “You okay, Keith?”

“No, I need a bathroom.” Keith snapped.

Lance sighed, “End of the hall to the right.”

Keith's head was spinning faster with each step until he was leaning forward with his hands on the small vanity behind a closed door. He forced himself to start saying everything he saw out loud until he could feel himself calming down.

By now, Keith thought he'd gotten used to it all, to pushing everything down and pretending that questions like that didn't bother him. He was really good at it, too, convincing everyone that he was fine when all he felt was anger and pain and loneliness all of the time?

Then again, Keith would often wonder if there was even anyone left who would care if he ever told them that he wasn't.

Keith grit his teeth at his reflection and turned on the sink, hoping that some cold water would pull him from the edge of that dark rabbit hole. He let his guard down. That was something that never happened, so what was it?

A jolting knock at the door made Keith jump.

“Laaanceee!” A shrill voice called from the other side, “Open the door, I have to-” Keith obliged before the girl could finish. She stared up him with starstruck eyes. Her long dark curls were hastily brushed behind her ear as she straightened up. “I-I’m sorry, I thought you were Lance.”

“Er, don’t worry about it,” he sidestepped her and started back down the hall.

“Wait!” The girl grabbed his arm, “I’m Nina.”

He looked down at her hand first, then slowly brought his eyes up to meet hers, honey brown like her mother’s but wide and sparkling like her brother’s, she couldn’t have been more than a couple of years younger than them. He blinked at her twice before replying, “Keith.”

“ _Very_ nice to meet you.” Nina didn’t let go of his arm but looked bashfully away, a wide grin spread across her face. At the time, even her smile seemed identical to Lance and, wow, why was Keith’s heart picking up at the thought? “Um, a-are you here with-”

“Hey, Keith, you done yet?” Lance asked as he poked his head into the hall from the doorway of his room. His face fell as soon as he saw his sister, and he looked between them and the hand on Keith’s arm suspiciously. “Sorry,” he started when he began walking toward them, “Was I interrupting something?”

“Not really?” Keith answered cautiously.

“Is that so?” Lance leaned in to inspect his suspect.

Keith gulped, _He’s close…_ “Yes?”

“Yes?”

Nina pushed herself between them and glared at Lance with clenched fists, “Por qué no te preocupas por tu propio negocio?”

Lance looked between the two of them again, “Él es demasiado viejo para ti.”

She folded her arms, “Solo dices eso porque estás celoso.”

“Tch,” Lance sneered, grabbed Keith’s wrist, and pulled him out of Nina’s gentle hold, “C’mon, Keith, we’ve got work to do.”

“R-right,” He stammered, trying to focus on anything but the warmth of Lance’s hand. _What’s wrong with me?_

As soon as the door clicked behind them, Lance pinned Keith between his arms to the back of it. Keith immediately felt the heat rising from the back of his neck to the tips of his ears until it finally flooded his cheeks, “W-what are you-”

“Were you checking out my sister?” Lance asked warningly.

“What? No!”

“Because if you were-”

“Trust me,” Keith held his eyes, “I wasn’t.”

“Fine, but let me get this clear just in case you get any ideas later on,” he leaned closer and Keith’s mouth went dry, “if you ever do anything with her, I will not hesitate to break your pretty face.”

 _Pretty face!?_ “Ummm…”

Lance’s eyes were blown wide in terror. Every inch of exposed skin went crimson red, and Keith swore he could _feel_ Lance’s heart hammering around them. Then again, as they stood staring at each other in shock, it could very easily have been his own.

“I, uh, I- I…” Lance sputtered as he began slowly backing away.

What happened next came so naturally, Keith would come to think back on it as downright terrifying: his hand found the back of Lance’s neck, fingers wove themselves in his chocolate locks, and pulled him forward. Their mouths clashed together, teeth scraping, lips roughly pressed against each other. Keith relaxed his hold, and they backed off just enough so their lips met again but softly. The kiss was warm, timid, and left Keith feeling like his heart was floating somewhere in the sky far above them. Then it was over and they were back to simply staring at each other with mortification written all over both of their faces.

“O-oh,” Lance squeaked.

Keith couldn’t control his breathing- felt as though he was back at that dangerous edge- the only thing he could focus on were the colors of blue swirling in Lance’s eyes. “I-I need to go.”

“What?”

Keith pushed past him and began packing his things. “I, um, m-my uncle needs me to, um, g-go.”

“Wait,” Lance started as he threw his bag over his shoulder.

“I-” Keith dropped his head and bit his lip before speaking, “I’m sorry.”

“Keith-”

But he walked right through him and out the doors. Mrs. McClain didn’t even notice him leave, the rain having muffled the sound of the front snapping closed. Keith walked briskly to the nearest bus stop, thankful to the heavy drops against his skin for cooling him off.

“Why would you _do_ that!?” He berated himself as he went, “You idiot, he’s never going to speak to you again!” It wasn’t even until he crossed his arms that he realized that _his_ clothes were still tumbling in his crush’s dryer. “He’s _not_ my crush! And Uncle’s going to _kill_ me.” He scoffed, “ _If_ he even notices.”

At the end of the block, a bus came to a slow stop as he neared the sign. He payed his fare and tucked himself in the very back corner, ignoring the blatant stares from the other passengers. His stomach felt hollow with every bump, and he started thinking that maybe he should have taken Lance up on his offer of real food; then he thought of warm lips, soft hair beneath his fingers, vanilla and cinnamon wrapped around him. Keith leaned his head against the window and watched the wet city pass by, _what have I done?_


	12. Past and Pending pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the past: Keith's distant. Lance tries.  
> In the present: Pidge searches for answers. And eats a lot in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello folks! I'm sorry it's been so long, I've been busy keeping up on the big bangs I've been participating in so please forgive me. I should be able to update fairly regularly again, but bare with me if I struggle.  
> Anyway, if you haven't seen this absolutely incredible [commission](https://rubbish-in-space.tumblr.com/image/164305263674) done by [emuyh](http://emuyh-art.tumblr.com/) for ch.3 yet, DO IT!!! It is so beautiful I want to cry so please go appreciate it as much as I do!

_6 Years, 10 Months, and 11 Days ago:_

Lance’s mother always told him that a kiss is nothing special unless it is shared with someone special to you. And, yes, that wisdom was shared in the midsts of a lecture concerning Lance’s morality, but there was still a ring of truth to it.

So, maybe that's why Keith's kiss, awkward as it was, left such an impression. Lance liked Keith, he'd known he liked him since the first day.

No, that was a boldfaced lie, he _hated_ him after that first day. Then, well, as the year went on Lance only liked him less and less. He was Mr. Perfect all the time with everything and it was infuriating!

Then something awful happened: they were paired together for that ridiculous Science Fair, but not long after, that same thing became something else entirely. Lance discovered that the boy he'd spent the year loathing was actually pretty great. Now, if you'd have asked him ‘how' or ‘in what way’ as his best friend had been doing for weeks, Lance would only have answered with incoherent babbling.

The truth was, Lance couldn't really pinpoint what exactly had him crushing on the boy he'd claimed to hate; the best he could tell was it was just a little bit of everything. It was the sunlight shining in Keith’s raven hair, it was the crinkle of his nose whenever he came across something he didn't understand (which generally happened when Lance would attempt to make a joke), and the way he chewed at his pen cap whenever he was having trouble concentrating. Conversely, it was the tight knit of determination in his brow once he found his focus, and the infectious energy put off by it. He had an awful sense of humor- awful here means that most things went over his head- yet, it was his quick wit and sly smiles that never ceased to catch Lance off guard. He didn’t get a lot of pop culture references which was leading Lance to believe that the boy had grown up in a box far far away from normal civilization, but somehow that only seemed to add to his charm.

Keith kept mostly to himself that Lance had missed all of these things before he started spending so much time with him. He was closed off and had a short fuse so Lance was hardly ever able to read him, but there were moments when he was able to catch a glimpse of the real Keith Kogane. For starters, he was surprisingly kind hearted- he would always ask Lance wanted him to grab anything for him when he’d go to the vending machine or offer support whenever Lance seemed to be struggling (be it on homework or otherwise). Another thing he had discovered was that, annoying though it was, Keith did work very hard to be as good as he was at everything he did. The bastard did have a talent for a good portion of those, but he never took it for granted. He took the things he did seriously which was admirable, yes, but also made Lance wonder what the guy actually did for fun. Did he even know what fun was?

Then there was the last thing Lance had learned from their time together: Keith was, at the very least, attracted to him on some level.

Well, Lance was more certain of that development seven days ago when Keith had hooked a hand around his neck and pulled his mouth to his. However, since then, Lance was less and less convinced by the day as Keith seemed to be avoiding him like the plague. He’d taken to ducking down random hallways or alleys if ever he even saw Lance. He didn’t respond to texts or calls, email became their only form of communication and that was strictly to exchange information on their project. Any attempt to change the subject was met with radio silence. Even exchanging their clothes became a process that involved separate bags and a bench in the locker room. The only time they were absolutely forced to be together was in their science class where they were lab partners, but even then, Keith ignored anything Lance did or said that wasn’t directly related to what they were doing in class.

It was driving Lance mad, and worse, it was making him doubt nearly every aspect of himself. Was the kiss really so revolting? To Lance, Keith obviously thought it was a mistake, and maybe he had been avoiding him because he was afraid that it meant anything to Lance (which it absolutely didn’t).

Except it did and it hurt that it didn’t seem that Keith felt that it had in any way. Was this his way of mocking Lance?

He felt as though he was being treated like a child who couldn’t handle rejection, and if he were to be rejected then he sure as hell deserved to be rejected plainly and to his face. So after a solid week of tip toeing around each other, Lance had had enough.

He wasn't stupid enough to start anything in science- the last thing he wanted was to give the rest of the class something to talk about behind, or not even, their backs- so he knew that if he was going to make a move, it’d have to be before class… but when?

It had to be today, Lance couldn’t stand going another full weekend without any sort of resolution. The day dragged on, Keith was able to successfully hide away and Lance kept missing his chance, but just as he was getting discouraged, Lance found his moment.

In gym they had been getting ready for the pacer coming the after the weekend, and since it was finally nice outside, the two classes couldn't pass up the chance to share the field. Giving him the perfect chance to talk to Keith in an environment that was fairly private (if he kept up with him on the track) plus it wasn't as though he would be able to go anywhere else. Lance smiled to himself once he saw Keith across the field.

Yes, this was perfect.

They were separated into small groups and tasked with different stations to be rotated at the sound of the whistle. As soon as the coaches began counting out the teams Lance made sure to space himself perfectly so they’d end up together.

Lance raised his hand, "Um, coach?"

"Yes, McClain?"

"Are we going to be running in pairs or just all at once?"

The coach cupped his chin in consideration, “Now why the hell would we run in pairs?”

“Just wanted to make sure, coach." Really, he’d just wanted to draw Keith’s attention which seemed to have worked. Lance smirked at the look on Keith's face when he glance over. It was a mixture of surprise and apprehension.

"Okay, class," coach started once he got over to their group, "pair up and start with some kinetic stretches."

Their group branched off, Lance made his way over, but Keith very pointedly turned his back and joined up with the girl closest to him. Lance tried not to glare.

_Real subtle, Kogane._

The girl he asked was all too pleased to accept him which made Lance's stomach turn.

 _She’s cute,_  he frowned, _they'd be cute together, I guess._

But that would mean Keith was just playing him whole time, which, damn, maybe he was.

 _Fucking jerk_.

Lance did his best to keep his focus on the classmate in front of him, but he couldn't help sneaking suspiciously looks in their direction. Keith was holding up the girl's leg as she bent over to touch her toes. She was very conscious to keep a perfect posture, too, which only helped her prove her flexibility. Her giggling became nails on a chalkboard to Lance as she was doing it every time Keith did absolutely anything.

_Is that really what he's into?_

Then Lance caught a deeply annoyed expression in Keith's brow. It was subtle, but to someone who'd spent the last month studying the guy's every gesture, his displeasure was obvious.

Then why the hell was he wasting any of his time with her? Granted it was only P.E and it'd been barely a hair past 5 minutes. _Still_ , Lance thought as he glanced that direction, _doesn’t Keith have a little more pride than that_?

Lance gulped as Keith caught his gaze and quickly looked away. From then until the coach made another round, Keith became unusually nice to the girl. Lance almost, for maybe half a second, thought he heard Keith trying to _flirt_ with her. She was eating it up, twirling her finger in the bouncing ponytail riding high on her head and gently placing her hand on his arm as she spoke. It nearly made Lance sick.

Then, _finally_ , they were instructed to start making laps. Lance had an eight minute window to try and catch Keith off guard maybe long enough to get something out of him.

What did he want?

An apology for how he'd been ignored, sure, but more than that he wanted an explanation.

The whistle rang in the air and they were off. Keith quickly took the lead, but Lance was right on his heel. Once they were shoulder to shoulder, he made his move.

"Why are you avoiding me?" He asked between breaths.

"I’m not avoiding you," Keith answered blankly.

"You're kidding me, right."

Keith dropped his head and picked up the pace. Unfortunately for him, Lance ran every night with his dog, so he wasn't going to be able to get away so easily.

Keith groaned when he reappeared at his side, "What do you want?"

"I don't know," he shrugged as best he could, "maybe an explanation."

"For what, Lance?"

Lance gave him a withering look, "You know what, Keith."

Keith tighten jaw and tilted his chin up.

"Oh, really," Lance scoffed, "the silent treatment again? Real friggin mature, Kogane."

Keith only narrowed his gaze ahead of them.

"You don't want to talk? Fine, then you can listen," Lance started, it was getting harder to keep up conversation but he was determined to say what he had to even if it was broken up by his heavy breaths. "I don't know why you did what you did but I think at the very least, I deserve _something_."

Keith kept his chin up when he spoke, “Why?"

"Um? Because you _kissed_ me!" Lance hissed.

"So?"

"So!?" Lance felt his blood rushing from more than just the jog and he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep this up. Especially with the way Keith was being so dismissive, Lance wanted nothing more than to tackle him down and demand some straight talk! Er, well, straight in the sense of forwardness. " _So tell me why!_ "

Keith lifted his chin, "Doesn't matter."

" _What!?_ " Lance grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop, ignoring the looks from his peers slowing their pace as they went by. "It matters to  _me!_ "

Keiths brow furrowed and his jaw tightened, "You wouldn’t understand anyway.” Keith yanked his arm away and took off again. 

Lance’s first instinct was to say something cocky like ‘try me’, but his words, faltered at the solemn expression on Keith's face. And he thought of those few weeks he’d been gone without a word- recalled the hollow expression he came back with. There was a story there that he didn’t know, maybe one he _couldn’t_ quite understand. So, maybe Keith’s behavior didn’t have anything to do with him at all.

After that realization, Lance let him keep the lead.

He kept his distance from Keith the rest of the class, and watched in silence at the same girl tried so desperately to hang onto him. She really was cute, Lance had actually gone on a date with her earlier in the year, but on it he realized how insufferable she was. Keith humored her quietly, but Lance could tell he was more than just uninterested, he was _distracted._ By what?

Did Lance just make things worse? How could he make it better? He was determined to fix his mistake and came up with the terrible idea that, what Keith _really_ wanted was to pretend like nothing happened at all.

So, later in the day as they settled into their seats, he turned to Keith and started talking as though the last week had been completely erased. He talked about how ridiculous he thought the pacer was, how he thought it was still too cold to run outside and that if he'd been given a heads up he would have actually brought other clothes.

"I mean," Lance turned over his head, "it would have been considerate, but _NO_."

Keith looked at him with annoyance.

"Lance," the teacher called them out from the front of the room, "do you _want_ a detention slip?"

"No ma'am." Lance smiled apologetically. Keith hunched his shoulders and went back to coldly ignoring him. Lance didn't get it, if he wanted to ignore what happened, fine, but was he just over Lance in general?

Keith kept his head down the rest of the period as Lance kept trying talking to him because he wasn’t going to just be dismissed anymore. He lost track of what he was saying, but he was going to get things at least back to the way it was when they first started this. For some reason, he felt like he _had_ to. Even after the final bell when Keith had swept out the door as so fast nobody else seemed to see him go, Lance didn't- _wouldn't_ - let him get away.

"So," he started as he caught up to Keith in the hallway, "we haven't really been able to make any headway on our project. I mean, sure we've set up a pretty good foundation, but I think it's time we start getting down to the knitty- gritty and-"

Keith turned on his heel so fast, Lance barely had time to stop from running directly into him, "What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to talk to my science fair partner who, I’m sorry to say, has seriously been slacking off lately."

Keith grabbed Lance's wrist and pulled him into the nearest empty classroom. "Seriously, Lance, _what are you doing_?"

Lance gulped and looked down at his hand still firmly attached to his wrist. Keith followed his gaze and immediately pushed away.

"I thought you wanted to pretend nothing happened," Lance shrugged, "So that's what I'm doing."

Keith furrowed his brow, "When did I _ever_ say that?"

"Well, um," he scratched at his head, "I guess you didn't say that _exactly_ , but I figured that’s what you wanted.”

“Wow,” Keith looked up, running a hand through his hair, “You’re an idiot.”

Lance shrugged, “I mean, what else am I supposed to think when you won’t even talk to me?”

“That maybe I don’t _want_ to talk to you.” He snapped.

Lance’s face fell, “That’s just mean, Keith.”

“Sorry to hurt your _feelings_ , Lance,” he started harshly, “but if someone is actively ignoring you, most people get the hint.”  

“Well,” Lance took a decisive step forward, “I’m not most people.”

“No,” Keith looked at him dismissively, “you are much much stupider.”

Lance straightened up looking as though he’d just been slapped, “You know, I was starting to think I was wrong about you.”

Keith took a bracing breath, “Well, you weren’t. I’m just as big of a jerk as everyone says I am. I don’t care about you or anyone else, and as soon as we’re done with this stupid science fair, you can just go back to hating me like you did before.” 

He shoved past Lance, slamming the door behind him. 

* * *

“Ouch.” Pidge winced and Lance nodded solemnly.

After Lance ran from the bar to meet his ‘date’, Pidge eventually convinced him to go back to her place. She was on a mission and so far Lance had done a good job explaining just what caused so much damn hostility between he and Keith.

Lance threw back the more of _her_ Mt. Dew (she was _very_ committed to this cause) and smacked his lips, “Yeah.”

“But, Lance, still.”

He eyed her warningly, “Still?”

Pidge shrugged, “That was practically seven years ago…”

He set his glass down and glared, “And your point is?”

She leaned across the small dining room table table, readjusted her glasses, and stared him down, “That you should get over it.”

Lance narrowed his eyes to the point where she honestly had a hard time telling whether he could even see her, “The guy was my first kiss then threw me aside for no apparent reason and I should just _‘get over it’_?”

“Wait, that was your first kiss?”

Lance crossed his arms self-consciously and shrugged, “With a dude, yeah.”

“So....” Pidge teetered back in her seat, "that why you broke his nose?”

Lance eyed her suspiciously, “Who told you that?”

“Was it supposed to be a secret?”

“Well, no,” Lance frowned, “I guess not.”

“And, was that it?” She pressed before bringing her glass to her lips. "Because, honestly, it doesn't sound like that's it."

The room went silent, the air was palpable, but Pidge focused all her energy on staring Lance down; he stared right back. It was a battle of wills that could have gone on forever had he the patience to let it. Instead, he clenched and unclenched his jaw before speaking, “Look, Pidge, I gotta go.”

Pidge choked on her drink and fell into a coughing fit. “What? But you were just getting the good part!”

Lance met her annoyance by standing up and shrugging back into his jacket. "Yeah, well, some of us have to get up at the ass crack of dawn to work."

She narrowed her eyes dangerously, "You know I'm going to find out about it eventually."

"Whatever, Sherlock." He rolled his eyes, “you have fun with that.”

“C’mon, _Sparrow_ ,” Pidge hit him with her best puppy dog eyes, “I thought we were friends.”

Unfortunately for her, those bright golden eyes were nothing compared to Hunk’s big chocolate ones so they was easy for Lance to ignore. “Bye, Pidge.”

She crossed her arms and slumped back in a huff as the door clicked closed behind him. What was his problem? _Why_ couldn't he just tell her? How bad could it be?

The seat kicked back as she sprang to her feet now on her way quest for more of her liquid life source. Pidge frowned, examining the dent in her supply. She never should have given up her Mt. Dew to that tall bastard. True, now she had a lot more information about he and Keith’s stranger rivalry than she'd gone in with, but all that seemed inconsequential compared to the fight that ended it all.

The door to the fridge closed behind her as she grabbed a bag of chips and moseyed over to her tiny couch. This was ridiculous. Somebody was going to tell her what the hell happened, even if she had to force it out.

Now that Lance had left, she would have to find another way. Hunk was definitely asleep by now, so he was out for the time being (she'd have to try in the morning), and considering that less than 5 words had been exchanged between she and Keith put him out as well. That only left one person, and luckily he- unlike Lance apparently- couldn't say no to her.

“Katie,” Shiro started in a groggy voice as his front door creaked open, “it's 1 in the morning, what do you want?”

“I have questions, Shiro.” She replied, casually pushing her way inside, “Questions that need answering.”

Shiro loudly groaned behind her while he relocked the door. Pidge went straight for his fridge as always. She was really low on ‘ _really food’_ supply at home and knew Mr. Health would have something for her to mooch off of. Hopefully something edible unlike the Kale wraps last time. Pidge shivered at the memory.

“You can't just barge in here like this, Katie.” Shiro rubbed his temples, exasperated.

“Why not?” She brought a mysterious take out box to her nose and shrugged, “It's not like you have anyone over.”

He folded his arms self consciously, “I could have, then what would you do?”

Pidge regarded him with pursed lips and shrugged, “I guess I'd just quietly hang out on the couch.” She got a fork from the dishwasher and started to dig in, “but you don't so it doesn't matter anyway.”

Shiro gave her a withering look before shaking his head. He didn't have anything else to say, she was right, it was like he'd have anyone over anyway. Shiro sighed and fell into the couch, stretching his legs over the cushions.

“Aw, don't worry, Casanova,” Pidge started supportively as she shimmied herself under his feet in the corner of the couch, “you’ll find someone. Though, statistically speaking, men over the age of 30 who work all the time and make absolutely no effort meeting new people have, I’d say, a 93% chance of being forever alone.”

“I’m only 28.”

“29 at the end of the month,” she shrugged, “so practically 30.”

Shiro rolled his eyes, “I’m also not _not_ meeting people, I just have a very busy schedule.”

“Riight. If that’s what helps you sleep alone at night.”

“Pidge,” he started, irritated and still half asleep, “what questions do you need answered?”

“Oh, right.” She sat straighter and quickly finished off the rest of the chicken in the box. “Why did Lance and Keith get into a fight in junior high?”

Shiro sighed, "Maybe that's something you should talk to Keith about."

"Look, Shiro, it’s _me_." She started matter of factly, "Besides, I doubt either of those boys are going to give me a straight answer about what happened," Lance wouldn't, why would Kieth? She didn't even know him. "And I feel like it's something I should know considering that I'm going to have to put up with it for the unforeseeable future."

Shiro considered her a moment then nodded, "Yeah, maybe you're right."

"Yes," she beamed, "and you should be used to that by now."

"But, Pidge, I need your word that you won't say anything to either of them until they decide to tell you themselves."

"Not a word."

He took a bracing breath before he started, "What you've got to understand, Pidge, is that Keith was in a very bad place when all that happened."

"How so?"

“Keith had just lost his father and was hauled off to his last of kin who, to this day makes no attempt to hide his contempt for him."

" _Why_?"

"That, I actually don't know."

“What an ass.”

Shiro rubbed his hand through the tuft of white hair over his forehead, “You have no idea.”

"Hm," Pidge cupped her chin in thought, "okay, so Keith was in a bad place..."

"Right, so the last thing on his mind was school. Even before that, he kept to himself, which isn't surprising since its Keith." Shiro looked at her expectantly.

Her face became void of expression, "That literally means nothing to me, Shiro, I haven't spent anymore than an hour with the guy."

"Right," he shook his head, "well he still kind of keeps to himself."

"Good to know," Pidge dismissed, "now back to the story."

"Fine," Shiro sighed heavily. "Well, when the project came around, Lance really became his only kind of friend."

She winced, "Poor kid."

"Yeah, well, as you might have guessed, he started to feel differently about him-"

"And he kissed him one night, yeah, yeah, I already know that."

"From who?"

"Never you mind, Shiro." She winked.

"Katie."

"Fine," she sighed, "I might have been asking Lance about it, too."

"Then why are you interrogating me?"

"Because Mr. Talks A Lot surprisingly wouldn't get past that part in the story, and believe me, I tried to get more out of him."

"Okay, well, since you already know that, then you must know how Keith reacted after."

"Yeah… he did mention all that.”

...

"The guy completely ignored him!" Hunk exclaimed across the breakfast counter in his kitchen. Pidge was well aware that Hunk wasn't a morning person, but she still wanted to know everything he knew before their meeting later that night. So, she bribed Hunk to open the door at 9 am with a box of assorted donuts and an extra large cup of coffee. "I mean, I'm sure he must have been going through his own stuff, but still, how crappy of him."

"Crappy?" Pidge mocked through stuffed cheeks.

He shrugged, "Yeah, well, I don't like to curse."

Pidge snorted in disbelief, " _Okay_ , anyway..."

"Right, anyway," he started again, leaning further on the counter, "Keith starts hardcore avoiding Lance, and Lance-"

“Harassed him until he finally blew up." Pidge deadpanned and waved him off, “I already know this part, get to the good stuff!”

“Right well, the science fair came around and, um,” Hunk scratched at his chin, “you could say they didn't exactly go home with a ribbon.”

“So their project sucked?” Pidge rushed, “No surprise there since Lance isn't really an academic protegé.”

“Eh, you'd be surprised.” He took a sip of coffee. “I mean, sure he was only fourteen, but their project was actually pretty impressive."

"Then why didn't they _‘go home with a ribbon’?_ " She rolled her wrist with a half eaten donut in her hand, “What happened?”

"You really should be asking Lance all this."

 _As if I hadn't tried_. Pidge sighed in exasperation, "Hunk, you know Lance wouldn't tell me everything anyway and considering what’s at risk here, I think I should at least know why two of my band members want to kill each other."

...

"Keith doesn't want to _kill_ him." Shiro explained the night before, "Honestly, I don't think he's still that upset by it."

"Then why has he been acting the way he has?"

"C'mon," Shiro snorted, "look at the way Lance has been treating him."

"True, but Lance isn't exactly a prime example of maturity."

"Well,” Shiro yawned, “I'm sure being around him is bringing up some unpleasant memories."

"So," Pidge started cautiously, "do you think they'll actually be able to work together for this?"

He rubbed his heavy eyes and sighed, "I hope so."

...

“Let's put it this way,” Hunk shrugged with a smear of jelly on his chin, "If Lance doesn't get his head out of his butt, I'll pull it out for him before kicking it."

"Um.” Pidge grimaced, “What a lovely image."

"I just mean, we've wanted a chance like this for as long as I can remember, so if he's going to put it all at risk because of some stupid unresolved sexual tension, I'm going to have to knock some sense into him."

“I’d love to see that.” Pidge smiled sadistically; Hunk raised an eyebrow. “What? You can’t tell me he doesn’t need a good asswhopping.”

“He doesn’t need a good asswhopping.” Hunk deadpanned.

“HA!” She exclaimed, jumping to her feet with her finger pointed at his chest, “You said _‘ass’_!”

He shrugged nonchalantly, “Just because I don’t _like_ to curse doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen, and anyway, Lance just needs time to adjust.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“I guess _then_ some asswhopping might be neccessary.”

Pidge smirked, “Sweet.”

Hunk eyed her suspiciously, "Wouldn’t you _want_ him to adjust first?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” she sighed, “but it’d be really fun to watch you beat him up. Also, Hunk?”

He looked at her with restuffed cheeks, “Hm?”

“You’ve got a little something on your chin.”


	13. Bet on It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here I want to write a summary, but I can't stop thinking about High School Musical 2 XD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so... I did not mean to post this yet but since it's already here...  
> Anyway please be patient as I go back and fix my shit. Thank you guys, you are the literal best

Keith still couldn't believe he let Shiro talk him into this. It wasn't as though he regretted the entire thing- just the look on Lance's face when he sang the last chord of that song made it all worth it- however, seeing Lance three nights a week was something he hadn't quite prepared himself for. It felt _almost_ like all those nights they'd spent together years ago before everything between them went to shit, only now the air was so tense that just being in the same room as Lance was suffocating. Somehow, for it didn’t matter the reason, they always ended up bickering. Lance would call him out on being off rhythm while Keith would make snide comments whenever Lance was even a bit flat. They were like lions carefully circling each other- watching, finding each other’s weaknesses and prodding them just enough to be annoying but not enough to pull apart the pride.

That was something he absolutely would not do. Hunk and Pidge were innocent bystanders who didn’t deserve to be caught in their crossfire. He could tell Lance shared his feelings on that because whenever things got really heated, both would back off as soon as they heard Hunk groan or Pidge snap. Keeping everyone together was more important than whatever kind of feud was going on between them. True the tension was insufferable, but being surrounded by them- being apart of their band- was the first time in a long time that Keith didn't feel completely alone.

The terms they had discussed at their first official band meeting had been simple: basically be mindful of the other members- _all_ of the other members Shiro had added, fixing he and Lance with a pointed glare. And so the rivals tried to get along, they really did, but after a full week of trying, they all were at wits end. 

Music and tension filled the room as an unsaid competition hung in the air. Keith and Lance stole glances at each other. Trying to will the other to crack first when their eyes connected Lance would smirk at Keith taunting him, and if Keith missed a note Lance sang it louder trying to show him up with his voice. Keith had tried to ignore it, but the arrogance radiating from his old friend sparked his competitive spirit. With Lotor there was no competition because it wasn’t allowed- Zarkon had forbade it. Keith was seen occasionally but never heard, that was his life and he’d accepted out of lack of choice.

But with _Lance_ , Keith never felt a need to stay quiet.

Licking his lips he stared dead at Lance facing him. His fingers flexed and came alive on the strings, strumming them as if all the words he couldn’t say would play instead of notes. Lance met his eyes and faced Keith rolling the mic stand to face him as well. What ensued can only be called a battle for dominance as both boys poured emotions they had held back into the music. Keith’s frustration with the situation, with himself, with Shiro, with Lance- always Lance.

His tempo picked up as his anger and regret rolled from him crashing like waves. In an ocean of turmoil the only thing keeping Keith from a breakdown was the connection with blue eyes. His lifeboat that had a hole slowly pulling him down, but he couldn’t leave. He didn’t want to leave this, teasing and testing Lance, it was safer than admitting how much he regretted everything. It was safer than telling the truth and being exposed to his real reaction. Every scenario in his head told him it was a bad idea, and he was trying to heed his own warning. After all, Lance was angry with him and Keith knew he needed to do what he could to get on his good side, but the bastard had a way of getting under his skin like no one else could.

“ _Stop rushing!_ ” Lance snapped, abruptly halting the bridge of _Are You Gonna Be My Girl_. Pidge and Hunk groaned loudly.

“I'm _not_ rushing!” Keith snapped right back, letting his guitar hang limply across his body.

“P-lease,” Lance rolled his eyes, “you were rushin’ so bad, if this was 1950 I'd report you to McCarthy!”

Keith looked at him, completely and utterly perplexed, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Pidge snorted, “Technically, by that time it was the Soviet Union, but A for effort.”

“Wait a minute wait a minute, I got one,” Hunk stifled a laughed, “he was _Pu-tin_ a little _Rush-ian_ things…”

Keith rubbed his temples, “What are you guys even saying?”

“Yeah my dudes,” Pidge joined in with an exasperated sigh, “enough _Bull-shevik_.”

“You’re right,” Lance nodded seriously, “we should probably stop _Stall-in_ and keep rehearsing.”

At that the three of them burst into laughter all the while leaving Keith in the dust to rethink his existence. Seriously, was he missing something? Were they making fun of _him_? What was happening?

“Puns, Keith,” Lance cut off his laughter to deadpan in his face, “grow a funny bone and try to appreciate our wit.”

Keith regarded them all blankly, “ _Anyway_ , Hunk, was I rushing?”

“Eh,” he shrugged, “Kinda.”

“HA!” Lance threw out his hands, “ _Told_ you, Mullet!”

“But, Lance was also dragging.”

“What!?” Lance huffed, “No I wasn’t.”

“The only one who was really on point with me was Pidge.”

She tipped an imaginary hat from atop her strawberry blond head, “Why thank you, good sir, I do try.”

“So what now?” Keith asked solemnly, “I mean, we have to turn in _two_ recordings in barely a month and after a week we can’t even finish one song!” His shoulders slumped as he pulled his guitar strap over his head and leaned the striking red beauty on edge of the couch beside the door, “Look, I appreciate you guys letting me in,” he sighed, “but maybe it would have been best if you had just found somebody else.”

“Probably- Ow!” Lance’s grumble turned into a yelp as Hunk whacked him with the butt end of his drumstick. Keith nodded and walked out of the garage; a few moments later they heard the click of the front door.

Hunk scowled at Lance who rubbed at the reddening mark on his arm. “ _Really Lance_!?”

“What?” He shrugged, “he’s not wrong.”

“Dude,” Pidge scolded, “We. Don’t. Have. Time. For. This. Shit! The only reason we haven’t been able to finish anything is because you two keep fighting.”

“Well, what do you expect me to do about it?”

“I don’t know,” Hunk started sardonically, “maybe apologize for being such a jerk.”

“It’s not like he’s not being a jerk right back!” Lance defended.

“True,” Pidge joined in, “but you’re the one who keeps starting it, so you should be the one to apologize!”

“ _Fine_ ,” Lance huffed as he removed his own blue guitar and placed it in its stand beside Hunk's drumset. “I’ll go.”

He found Keith standing on the curb with a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth. “I didn't know you smoked.”

 _Only when I’m stressed_. Keith took in a long drag and let it out slowly as he spoke, “There's a lot you don't know about me.”

“Well it's not like you ever want to _share_ anything,” Lance grumbled.

“What do you want, McClain?” Keith snapped.

“Right,” Lance scratched at his neck, “look, maybe it _was_ a mistake letting you join the band,” Keith rolled his eyes, “but it’s too late to go back now so we’ll just have to try and focus on this and not on tearing each other’s heads off, deal?”

Keith scoffed, bringing the filter back to his mouth, “I thought we already made that deal.”

“Yeah, well then let’s make another one, just between us.”

Keith flicked the ash off the amber end of his cigarette, considering Lance’s offer. “What kind of a deal?”

“Well, um, I-I don’t really know,” Lance stammered.

Keith nodded, taking in a shallow breath and exhaling the smoke through his nose, “How about this, I won't comment of your atrocious singing anymore if you don't comment on my playing.”

Lance rolled his eyes, “That's not how a band works, Keith.”

“Neither is arguing every second, Lance.” He dropped the butt and stomped it out with the toe of his boot. Lance frowned disapprovingly. “Don't worry I'll pick it up.”

“You better.”

“Look,” Keith started with an idea forming at the edge of his mind, “you said it yourself that we need to figure out a way to work together, right?”

“Yeah…” Lance eyed him skeptically.

“Okay, well, obviously just making a _deal_ isn't working out.”

“What are you getting at?”

Keith’s heart rate picked up as he stepped closer to his bandmate, “Let's say instead of just a deal, we make a bet.”

Lance tilted his chin up, “I'm listening.”

“Loser owes winner, what, a week of chores?”

“Psh, that's child’s play” Lance cupped his chin in thought, “How about you owe me 200 bucks and a public apology saying I was right and you were wrong!”

Keith snorted, “You're kidding, right? There's no way _you're_ the one winning this.”

“Am so!”

“You're not,” Keith smirked wickedly, “and when _I_ win, you have to do whatever I say for a full 24 hours.”

“Oh, I like that better.” Lance matched his mischievous smile, “Loser is winner's slave for 24 hours. But, uh, what are we betting on again?”

Keith shrugged, “Whoever picks a fight loses?”

“Lame,” Lance dismissed, “we're gonna pick fights with each other no matter what, it's what we do.”

Keith tossed his head to the side and raise an eyebrow, “Then what do you suggest, Lance?”

“Hmm,” Lance smirked and stepped close enough for Keith to make out the freckles peppered across his cheeks.

Keith gulped, what gave this jerk the right to be so cute?

“How about the first one to quit.” Lance finished with a sly smile.

“And if we don't get into the contest?”

Lance shrugged, “Then you still owe me because you're the latest one to the game.”

Keith squared his shoulders, “And how is _that_ fair?”

“Okay,” Lance scratched at his head, “then how about the bet doesn't start until we get in?”

“Or I could just leave now and you guys find someone better.” Keith put his hand in his pockets and turned back to stalk toward his bike.

“I'll buy you dinner.” Lance blurted out.

Keith froze and looked over his shoulder, “What?”

He watch as Lance gulped shifting nervously, “I, uh, I-I’ll buy you dinner if we make it in.”

Keith turned back around and crossed his arms, “Really?”

“Yes, _really_ ,” Lance pleaded, “so just, would you come back inside so we can figure this shit out?”

Keith nodded and followed him back, all the while examining him curiously. Dinner? Of all things, why offer that? Did he mean dinner like a date or just was he just going to give him an impersonal gift card somewhere? Probably the latter since all signs pointed to Lance still disliking him. Yet, as he watched the mess of chestnut hair rustle with the breeze, a part of him hoped that it would at least just be the two of them. Not a date, just another chance at the friendship he fucked up.

When they were back inside the cozy little townhouse, they were greeted with Pidge and Hunk hunched over a piece of paper on the coffee table. Pidge was sitting criss-crossed on the floor while Hunk seemed to loom over her shoulder.

“Oh good,” Pidge started, “the dynamic duo made up.”

Lance ignored her and plopped beside Hunk, “Whatcha guys doing?”

Keith found his place leaning on the wall behind them.

“Well,” Hunk started, “you know how we’re having some trouble figuring out what to record?”

“Yeah…”

“So, Pidge and I have been reexamining the rules,” Hunk handed the print out to Lance, “and we discovered that the songs only have to be covers off the approved list.”

“What?” Lance pulled the paper closer to examine the fine print while Keith absently wondered if Lance needed glasses because he seemed to do that a lot. “These are all songs they’ve produced.”

“Well, yeah, Einstein,” Pidge rolled her eyes, “they already hold the licenses.”

“But why a cover?”

“It makes sense,” Keith piped up, making them craned their head behind the couch (Pidge ended up leaning back to peak around the side), “with a cover they’d have something to compare our sound to.”

“Right,” an annoyingly distinct voice came through the phone speaker on the coffee table, “which is why whatever you choose, you'll have to make it your own.”

Keith pushed off the wall, “You called Shiro?”

“What?” Pidge shrugged, “He has experience with this stuff.”

“So do I!”

Shiro sighed on the other end of the line, “Nobody’s doubting your abilities-”

“I am.” Lance mumbled before Hunk elbowed him.

“-but this is my job, Keith, let me help.”

“If you want to help so bad why not just come here?” Keith countered.

“Do you know what day it is, Keith? I really shouldn’t even be talking to you guys right now.” Shiro explained through static.

Keith tilted his chin up and took a deep breath, “Right. Shit.”

“What does that mean?” Hunk asked.

“Oohh, I can’t believe I forgot what day it was!” Lance put a palm to his forehead.

“And again I ask, what does that mean?” Hunk drawled in exasperation. Pidge shrugged.

“Are you there now?” Keith asked, leaning closer to the phone.

Shiro laughed humorlessly, “Yeah, well, who else would Zarkon send to scout out an award ceremony?”

“ _What!?_ ” Lance scooped up the phone as he jumped to his feet, “You’re there and you didn’t tell us!?”

“He doesn’t have to tell you anything,” Keith snatched the phone right back.

“Guys I thought we talked about working together,” Shiro berated.

Keith held Lances eyes shining with anticipation of their coming bet. Work together? Sure, but not in the way Shiro had intended.

“Okay, I really have to go now,” Shiro rushed, “I’ll talk to you kids later.”

Pidge scoffed, “ _Kids_. As if he’s not the biggest kid of us all.”

“Would somebody _please_ just answer my question?” Hunk rushed out. 

“He’s at the Grammys,” Keith answered blankly. “Now, about these covers-”

“Hold up,” Hunk held out his hand, “like the _Grammys_ Grammys?”

“Yes, now-”

“How are you not more excited about this?” Lance asked expectantly.

“It’s not the first time,” Pidge shrugged, “and he hates going anyway.”

It still took Keith off guard when Pidge said things like that about Shiro-  _his_ Shiro- because he often forgot that he had his whole life outside of their friendship. Not that he didn't know Shiro had a life before meeting him, he knew about Matt and a few others, but had never actually  _met_ any of them which made him feel as though he and Shiro were in their own kind of bubble- just them against the world. That's what Keith saw him as, his partner in crime (rather to keep him  _out_ of crime), so hearing somebody else talk so freely about the man he considered his brother something was he wasn’t used to. “Yeah, trust me, it’s not as glamorous as it seems.”

“Don’t tell me _you’ve_ been!” Lance rounded on him.

“Once,” Keith snapped, “and I hated every second of it!”

“How could you hate the Grammys!?”

“I don’t know,” Keith started defensively. “I just _did_!”

He knew why. It was because the only reason he was allowed to go was because Lotor practically begged his uncle to take him along. That was back when they got along- when Keith actually thought of him as a cousin, before he was poisoned by Zarkon’s greed. It was a disaster. Zarkon went out of his way to humiliate and threaten his nephew while Lotor stood against the flashing lights like the star he was on the verge of becoming. The whole time Keith kept wishing he was back in his room where he could just curl up and try to forget his existence.

“You’re crazy,” Lance shook his head, “working our way to the Grammys is kind of the point of all this.”

“Really?” Keith sneered, “You do this so that you can be rewarded for becoming some record company’s monkey?”

“That’s not what Lance meant, Keith,” Hunk assured him, rising between them. “It’d be nice, sure, but that’s not why we’re here. We’re here so that we can make a career out of doing something we love.”

Keith kept glaring until Lance gave up with a sigh and fell back to the couch. “Whatever, mullet, think what you want about the Grammys, let’s just focus on deciding what covers we’re going to do.”

Keith nodded before joining Pidge on the floor and they began scrutinizing the list of songs staring up at them menacingly.

“Whatever we do needs to be far enough from the original to show off our own sound.” Keith explained, “Or there’s no way we’re going to stand out.”

“Okay, I see what you mean,” Hunk nodded, “but _we_ don’t even know what our sound is so how are we going to do that?”

“We could always try getting there in layers,” Pidge suggested, “since Lance and Hunk have been together the longest, they’ve already got their own sound so all Keith and I need to do is add to that until it becomes something more.”

Lance shrugged, “It’s worth a try.”

Keith scoffed, “That still only gives us about a month to completely strip and reconstruct _t_ _wo_ covers.”

“Okay, Debbie,” Lance started, “save you downer comments for another time.”

“I’m just saying that pretty much gives us only  _four_ weeks and that's going to be rough," Keith pinched the bridge if his nose, "I mean, especially since we all have other things going on.”

"What other things do  _you_ have going on?" Lance asked sardonically.

"Nothing, I just-"

"Ah b-b-b-" Lance put a long finger to Keith's lips, "sush, pretty boy, and stop making excuses." 

Keith's eyes widened, distinctively remembering what happened the last time Lance called him  _pretty boy_.

Pidge crossed her arms, “I’m with Lance, if you’re not going to be helpful then don’t say anything at all, besides, at least we don’t have to try and write our own shit because then we’d really be in trouble.”

Lance pointed at her in agreeance.

“Yeah dude,” Hunk shrugged, “we all know how much of a commitment this is going to take. I mean, we’re giving up more than just our free time for this, but we’re still going to try.”

“So get it together, Mullet,” Lance smirked, “or they’ll be no dinner for you.”

Heat rose to Keith’s cheeks, _So he was serious about that _. He let out a sharp breath, “Then I guess we should get to work.”


	14. Lonely Valentine pt.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valentine's day's come and while Hunk is romancing the stone (ahahaha I can't help it), Lance is left wondering how to spend this special day without anyone special.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, um, I've broken 900 kudos which is kind of a really big deal for me! I cannot thank you all enough for just spending any of your time on this self indulgent little fic, it means the absolute world!  
> Warning: Valentine's day at this point in the story=Langst

“Lance,” Hunk started, finishing the top two buttons of his snazzy orange shirt  (a burnt color that only _he_ could pull off), “it's not the end of the world.”

His friend huffed from where he laid on the bed as he watched Hunk get ready, “Easy for you to say, you _have_ a Valentine.”

Hunk smiled, “Yeah, I do huh?”

“Yeah you do!” Lance answered enthusiastically, “And it only took you 3 years to ask her!”

Hunk frowned, “ I know, I just, Lance, I can't believe I'm spending Valentine's day with Shay! I mean how crazy is that?”

Lance hummed thoughtfully, _not really that crazy seeing as you both have been pining for each other_ . “Yeah, _weird_ how that worked out.” He flopped on to his back and sighed, “Hunk, it’s like the first time in 2 years that I haven’t had a valentine, you know? And it’s just… rough I guess.”

“Well if you’re that upset about it, maybe you could ask Keith to be your valentine.”

“And why the hell would I do that?”

“Hey,” Hunk started innocently, “I’m only throwing it out there because you were the one who asked him to dinner.”

“On the condition that we get into the competition.”

Hunk stifled a laugh, “You couldn’t have bribed him with something else?”

“Wha- I- I couldn’t think of anything else at the time!” Lance sputtered with red hot cheeks.

“Than taking Keith out to dinner?” Hunk asked unconvinced.

“ _No_ , I was just-” Lance groaned, “pft- whatever I don’t have to defend myself to you.”

“I’m just sayin there are worse things,” Hunk shrugged, “I mean, I’m sure he’d make a better valentine than Ny-”

“Hunk,” Lance cut him off. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily, “ _please_ don’t.”

Hunk regarded his friend a long moment before sitting beside him. His warm weight was a comfort against the unwanted pep talk Lance knew he was about to get. “I know that still hurts, and I’m really sorry dude, but she didn’t deserve you, and you- you need to remember that.”

“Yeah well,” Lance covered his face with his palms, “at least she actually _wanted_ me. I mean, she- she _did_ … I think.”

“Lance,” Hunk started again, a weight already hanging on his words, “you need to stop thinking like that, okay? You're an amazing person and whether or not that skeevy skank saw that doesn't mean that nobody else does.” Lance snorted, Hunk wasn't very good at sounding serious when he cursed, “I mean, who cares if she _wanted_ you or whatever at some point, trust me, buddy, you're pretty _wantable_ now. Not that you weren't always, just that maybe-"

“Okay, Hunk, I get it.” Lance sat up and patted his friend's shoulder, “Thanks.”

And he meant that: he _did_ get what Hunk was trying to say, but that didn't mean he _believed_ it. In fact, irrational though he knew it was, he still couldn't help feeling that Nyma was the last person who could ever really _want_ him- to _be with_ him- and he missed that more than he missed her. Lance could flirt up anyone, and often got nibbles with that bait, but if it ever went to anything more, those slippery fishes in the vast sea everyone kept mentioning would always get away. But that was probably because he'd never been much of a fisherman- more like one of those poor creatures who always got caught in the traps. Just take Nyma, for example: he took her hook, line, and sinker, but she just threw him back like the first catch of the day.

“Okay,” Hunk rocked himself back to his feet, straightened his collar one more time, and look down at Lance, “how do I look?”

His friend smirked, “Like a Hunk.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I.”  

“Really?” Hunk turned back to his dull reflection on the black computer screen, “You don’t think it’s too much?”

Lance shook his head as he appeared behind him, catching Hunk’s chocolate eyes in the screen, “Not at all, my friend, you look great!”

Hunk sighed and turned around, “I’m just afraid that Shay won’t be impressed or something.”

“First of all,” Lance began smoothing out the creases of Hunk’s burnt pumpkin shirt, “dude, why wouldn’t she? You’re the total package! Smart, punny, and devilishly handsome.”

Hunk frowned, “Be serious.”

“I am!” He exclaimed before sliding his arm around his friend's shoulder, “I mean, were you a swinging door, I’d like to think that _we_ -”

“Lance,” Hunk held up his hand and shrugged away, “don’t make it weird.”

Lance crossed his arms seriously, “Hunk, my man, I will _always_ make it weird.”

Hunk nodded with a sigh, “Oh I _know_ you will.”

“And you love it.”

“Okay, dude,” He looked at his phone, nerves practically radiating from him, “I gotta go.”

“You got this, man.” Lance assured him as he not so gently ushered his friend to the stairs, “Just don't forget the roses.”

“Uhh-" Hunk gulped, “I-I didn't get any roses. Oh quiznak, Lance!” He turned, fingers already pulling at his hair in a wide eyed panic, “How could I forget the flowers!? I'm not cut out for this, man! Shay needs _flowers_ but where should I get-"

“Hunk!” Lance seized his shoulder to still him, “Calm. Down. I gotchu, dude.”

“W-w-what do you mean?” Hunk eyed him skeptically.

“There’s a small bouquet in the fridge, we talked about this last night.”

“We did?”

They hadn’t, but Lance wanted to curb Hunk’s panic attack, “Yeah, so go grab it and get your smokin ass outta here!”

Hunk made his way to the fridge and pulled out the small bouquet and box of chocolates out. “Thanks, Lance, you’re the best.”

“You’re welcome, buddy,” he patted his back supportively, “now _go_.”

Hunk nodded and, taking a bracing breath, left the house. Lance’s smile faltered once the door had click closed. He was beyond happy for his friend (it was about damn time, and nobody deserved it more) but he was still trying to wade through the waters of his insecurities and what it meant to be alone on Valentine’s day. What it meant for _him_ was that those dark voices in his head- the ones who constantly told him that he wasn’t enough- were right. Of course they were, why would he think otherwise?

His fingers itched for the dull press of brass and copper chords beneath their tips. The rhythm, the rise and fall of each passing note, the hypnotic movement of his fingers: in these he found sanctuary. It was his escape from the world- a way out of his own head. It had always been because no matter what happened it would always be there, ready to welcome him back into it's comforting warmth. Lance wasn't great with words, and he was even worse at bringing them together to form sentences, but music? Music was the one thing he had in which he felt as though he was able to truly communicate his feelings. It was a blessing as much of a curse, though, because it was also the one medium he couldn't lie in. Not even to himself. Anyone paying attention would be privy to an intimate part of his mind- of his heart- at the time he was playing.

And right then he was feeling something a little more sour than hollow. Lance had no idea where he was going when his fingers pressed and strummed, but he rarely did when he was like this. He just let the music lead the way and tried to put words to what he could.

_“I_

_I just miss yoou_

_I don’t know what to doo_

_I jumped with no parachute_

_But you let me crash into... soooot?_

_Because your soul is in a firepiiit_

_I guess_

_And this song isn’t making sense_

_I don’t know why I_

_Keep on trying to try_

_When I can’t e-ven sing a song like_ at- all. Fuck!” The chords stopped with a rough palm as Lance threw himself back and groaned. “What the hell is wrong with you, McClain? Can’t even write a damn song.”

He sighed in defeat, turning his well loved guitar in his lap to examine it carefully. It was his most cherished possession from his aunt after his uncle had passed when he was 16. The first time he’d seen it- the dusted blue Dean- his tío Antonio was using it to teach him to play on his smaller Hofner. He let Lance hold it in his lap- his tiny body practically disappeared behind it, leaving only his long arms to reach around and cradle it.

_Antonio had once told him, ‘Every guitar needs a good name, Lancey Lance.’_

_Lance giggled fondly at the nickname, ‘What’s your guitar’s name, tío?’_

_His uncle cupped his chin with his calloused hand and regarded his nephew gently placing the full guitar beside him, ‘To be honest, sobrino, I haven’t named it yet.’_

_‘Her,’ Lance corrected._

_‘What?’_

_‘It's a her, tío.’_

_Antonio’s warm laugh echoed in the room, ‘And what makes you think that, Lancey Lance?’_

_‘I dunno,’ he shrugged, ‘cause it’s pretty like a girl.’_

_‘Now, sobrino,’ his tía Loretta started on her way into the room with two large glasses of Gaseosa, ‘are you saying boys can’t be pretty?’_

_‘Well-’_

_‘Sí, Lancey Lance,’ Antonio started teasingly, shaking out his long black hair, ‘no crees soy lindo?’_

_‘Creo que eres muy hermoso, mi amor,’ Loretta consoled him with an exaggerated kiss to the cheek._

_Lance grimaced, ‘Dan asco.’_

_‘Oh don’t be like that, sobrino,’ Antonio hooked his arm around his nephew and pulled him into a group hug._

_His tía kissed his cheek with a loud smack,_ _‘Eres la más lindo de todas, mi sobrino precioso!’_

_‘Urk!’ Lance tried to squirm away, but it was a halfhearted effort abandoned in favor of falling into their warm arms. He didn’t understand why they started laughed, but that didn’t stop him from joining them. They laughed and laughed carelessly- wholesomely- until their bellies ached._

In the end, he had helped his tío name the dusted icey blue Dean Leona because of the now very faded white outlined lioness handpainted on the belly of the guitar; he wasn’t very creative with his names at the time (still wasn’t if he were to be honest). Lance missed those days. He missed his tío and it broke his heart when his tía moved away because they’d been so close- she was the closest lifeline to Antonio. Then again, in her eyes, so was he, and even after 5 years, they were both still too fragile.

Now that was a love as true and as deep as he could ever hope to know. Not that his own parents weren’t very much in love, but there was just something about Antonio and Loretta. They fought, sure, but anyone could see the depth of their love- could almost drown in it whenever they looked at each other. They understood each other, stood by each other, and laughed with each other more wholly that anyone else Lance had ever met. He hoped with all his heart that someday he’d find a love like that. Not that he would at this point, right?

His only redeemable quality is his ability to create music, but even that’s easily passed up by someone like fucking Keith.

Keith who always had to bust into his life and shake things up. _‘Maybe you could ask Keith to be your Valentine?’_

Well, once upon a time he would have, but now it was almost too much just seeing him three times a week. Thinking of which, it was a rehearsal night, but since it was also most of the country’s “date night” they’d agreed to take a break. And so Lance wondered what Keith might be doing himself. He’d agreed too, so did that mean he also had plans? A date? Not that Lance cared; he certainly wasn’t jealous. Just, the thought made him feel even worse about himself. Of course Keith had a date. Why wouldn’t he have a date? I mean, have you _seen_ him? Lance reasoned it would be crazy if he didn’t!

Add it to the long list of things he had that Lance didn’t, and, fuck, Lance knew he sounded petty- he _felt_ petty and was beyond annoyed at himself for feeling that way, but he couldn’t help it when it came to Keith. After all, this very same inferiority complex was what founded their entire relationship.

 _Relationship, heh._ There really wasn’t another word to describe it so basely- even a rivalry is a type of relationship- but putting it into that context was… interesting. It was true, they had a history that should have driven enough of a spike between them that they’d each go their separate ways and never look back. And they did, for a time, but fate somehow shoved them back together for the unforeseeable future. Because if they actually pulled this all off and won, that’d only mean that they were truly stuck with each other, which was a terrifying thought. Lance wasn’t emotionally prepared enough to deal with Keith, not with his already shitty self esteem plummeting further and further every time they were together.

But what other choice did he have? This dream was too big for either of them. Too big for Lance to screw up. Too big to get in Keith’s way because, let’s face it, he was just better than Lance in every way. He could play practically every instrument in their band, he had experience -professional experience- in writing songs, and he could sing like a gruffy angel! At this point, maybe Lance really should just step aside and let him take over. He could stay for the body count, but as soon as they won, would they even need him anymore?

Lance sniffled and rubbed at his forehead. Okay, this train of thought needed to stop.

In practically no time at all, Leona was back on her stand and Lance was on his feet, pacing the room with his ear to his phone.

 _“Y’ola, mi amigo,”_ a quirky little strawberry blonde answered on the other line, _“qué quieres?”_

"Heya, Paloma!” Lance chirped into the phone, “And what do you mean ‘ _what do I want_ ’!? Can’t a guy just call to talk to my bestest friend?”

 _"Pft. I thought Hunk was your best friend."_ Pidge scoffed.

"Well that goes without saying.” Lance easily dismissed, “He's more like a part of me at this point so that levels you up to a best friend."

 _“I am truly honored,”_ Pidge drawled sardonically, _“So what's really up, sugar biscuit?"_

“Um…” Lance started. What he really wanted to say was ‘ _well, I was just spiraling into a dark place and really just don’t want to be alone right now’,_ but what he actually said was, "Whatcha doin?"

_"Reconfiguring the software for my soundboard, you?"_

"That sounds lame."

_"It's actually important if you want to be able to do anything while you sing."_

"Come again?"

_"I mean, sing off strings."_

"Meaning?"

_"Without your guitar, dunce."_

_"_ How could you do that?"

_"Well, I suggest you give that part up to Keith and I can work the bass into my interface."_

Lance scowled. See? She was already starting to replace him, "Maybe I don't want Keith on guitar."

 _"Of course you wouldn't."_ She droned.

"Whatever. So is that what you're doing for the evening or..."

_"Why do you ask?"_

"Well it _is_ Valentine's day..."

_"Not interested, Lance. I mean, you're sweet, but no."_

"What? Pidge, not like that! I just wanted to know what my best friend was up to because Valentine's day is about more than just romance, it's also about celebrating the people you love."

_"Awe, Lance, you love me?"_

"Heck yes I do, you little demon!"

 _“Well, I’m flattered..."_ There was a pregnant pause, " _If only the feeling were mutual."_

"Rude."  

_“But really, I do have a few more hours of rewriting this script then it’s gonna take awhile to sideload so if you want, while it's doing that, Shiro asked me to hang out with him so he doesn't have to think about being the dateless loser he is. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you joined us.”_

“I don’t want to intrude.”

_“No, dude, you’d be doing me a favor actually. As much as I love Shiro, he can be a little too overbearing sometimes especially on holidays. He’s a sloppy romantic and this is the 5th year he’s Valentine’s-less.”_

“Oh really?”

“ _No_.”

“I didn’t even say anything.”

 _“_ _He doesn’t swing that way, lover boy.”_

“Damn.”

_“Besides, he’s not really your type.”_

“What makes you think that?”

_“Well, he’s too put together for you.”_

“How's that bad?”

_“He's also not broody enough, and his hair is too short for you, also he can't play worth crap-”_

“Pidge what are you going on about?”

_“Nothing, dude, forget I said anything. Anyway, what do you think? You down to party?”_

“As long as I’m not gonna be a third wheel, I’m always down to party! What kind of party anyway? I mean, you’re still underage, aren’t you?”

_“You don’t have to drink to have a good time.”_

“I know that, I just mean, what are you doing if not hitting the town?”

_“Bowling.”_

“Bowling?”

_“Yup.”_

“ _Exciting_.”

_“Look, you don’t have to go.”_

“No! I just mean that I haven’t gone bowling in ages!”

_“So kicking your ass is going to be easy?”_

“I’ll have you know I’m a great bowler.”

_“Oh really?”_

“Yes, _really_ ,” Lance snarked, “but don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.”

He was good bowler, actually, it was another obscure talent that he never really counted on. Lining up the shot and getting the right spin to the ball came fairly easy to him, but they hardly ever went, so he hardly ever thought about it. This was good, though. Maybe going out and showing off one of the only skills he felt confident in would help him out of this funk.

The phone was silent and for a moment Lance thought maybe they’d been disconnected, then an eerie laugh rang into his ear and straight down his spine. _“Oh,”_ the voice started darkly, _“Traerlo, Gorrión.”_

The line went dead; Lance knew he’d made a mistake challenging the spawn of chaos and cunning. “Well, son of a quiznak.”


	15. Lonely Valentine pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith's never been good at bowling and he didn't even want to be there in the first place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! Sorry it took so long to get this up, but it ended up being a lot longer than I thought it'd be and I also wanted to wait until [this](https://rubbish-in-space.tumblr.com/post/166586614549/inkymint-this-was-too-much-he-was-too-close) amazing artwork by [inkymint](http://inkymint.tumblr.com/) was done to accompany it! I love it so so much and y'all need to go check out all of her work!

The only plans Keith Kogane had for Valentine's day (and perhaps the best plan he'd ever had for the candied heart holiday) was to stay in and watch slasher flicks in his pajamas. It was perfect, he'd brought out his comforter, stacked up _all_ of his pillows on the cushions around and behind him, and had an ample stock of fruitloops and Mr. Pibb. Other than the occasional bathroom break, Keith wouldn't have to move from his little burrow.

Unfortunately for him, Shiro had very different plans for the evening which was exactly why Keith had been avoiding him all day. He'd first been cornered in the elevator, then in the restroom a few hours later, but Keith had been lucky enough to dodge him at lunch and completely sneak away before Shiro was done for the day. Now, if only that had been enough to deter the older man from dragging Keith along for whatever he had planned.

Keith was an hour and one and a half a Mr. Pibbs into his perfect evening when his phone started ringing on the small coffee table in front of him. He didn't bother answering it, he already knew what Shiro was going to say and Keith felt as though silence was the best way to get the message across that he didn't want to go out. So he thought, but not even a few seconds after he's silenced the first call, Shiro's obnoxious face lit his screen once again. Keith groaned in frustration and decided to turn his phone off completely; it wasn't as though anyone else would try to get ahold of him.

Bloodsucking Vampires came to an end, and finally Keith had gotten to the movie he’d really been waiting for: the horrible tale of Camp Crystal Lake otherwise known as Friday the 13th. Why didn’t he just start with that one? Well, he wanted to be sure that he was in maximum comfort with the right amount of night sky behind the curtains… because, as anyone would be quick to point out, he was weird that way.

Keith pulled the blankets around his shoulders closer, sandwiching the box of fruitloops tightly to his chest as he watched the first of many murders to come. He’d like to say poor Barry, but the guy kinda deserved it; he definitely won the award for movie’s biggest douche. Keith’s fingers twitched along with the music as his mouth moved with Claudette’s, _‘please help… God…*whimpering*... *screaming*’_ then finally he ended the scene with the score of _‘hehehe-hahaha’... ‘DuNa-DuNa’..._

Okay, so _maybe_ he had seen this movie too many times, but, dammit, it was a classic for a reason! The opening credits ended and just as the scene shifted, there was a loud knock at the door. Keith already knew who was out there, so, naturally he responded by turning up the volume.

The knocking became more insistent as Shiro's muffled voice leaked through, “C’mon, Keith, I know you're home!”

“Am not,” he grumbled to himself.

“Are too.”

Keith jolted at that because either he had said that louder than he thought or Shiro had the hearing of a bat- knowing Shiro it probably was the latter. Either way, his cover had been blown.

“I don't want to go anywhere, Shiro!” Keith called from his spot on the couch.

“Do you know how easily I could break down this door?”

Keith groaned loudly as he reluctantly dug himself out of his burrow. He knew Shiro would never do that unless it was a real emergency, but he also knew that if he'd come this far and threatened that much, he wouldn't be going away so easily.

He unlocked the door and lazily pushed the handle down on his way back to the living room as Shiro slipped inside.

“Wow, Keith,” he started, taking a look around at the dark room, the table covered in junk food and soft drinks, the mess of pillows and blankets basking in the glow of the tv, “this looks like a healthy way to spend your time.”

Keith shrugged as he plopped back on the couch, “Works for me.”

“Come out with us.”

“Us?” Keith looked at him skeptically, “Who is _us_?”

“Just Pidge and I.”

Keith shook his head, “I appreciate the offer, but no thanks."

“I came all the way here to get you,” Shiro tried to guilt him.

“I never asked you to.”

Shiro shook his head and looked at his phone, presumably for the time, and sighed, “Okay.”

Keith studied him skeptically, “Okay?”

“Yes.”

“Just like that?”

Shiro shrugged, “Are you going to listen to me?”

“No?”

“Well then,” he started back to the door, “I guess I'll go.”

Keith stood up to study him fully, “You're serious?”

“I don't know what you what you want me to say, Keith.” Shiro explained, “If you don't want to go out then I'm not going to make you.”

“Then what was the point of you coming all the way over here?”

“I guess,” Shiro started rubbing at his neck, “I hoped that you would change your mind.”

“Uh-huh…” Keith crossed his arms defiantly. He reasoned whatever Shiro was doing had to be a new guilting method because the man never just let him off so easily. “Well I'm not going to.”

Shiro let out a long exhausted breath, “Exactly, so what's the point in me staying?” When Keith didn't answer, he opened the door, flooding the room once again with light.  “Goodnight, Keith, I hope you have fun all alone.”

“Oh I will,” Keith met him at the door, “I hope you also have fun doing whatever.”

Shiro smiled, “It's not too late for you to come with me.”

Keith responded with a deadpanned, “Night Shiro.”

“Happy Valentine's day, bro,” he threw his arms around Keith before the smaller man could get away.

“Yeah,” Keith sighed patting his back, “you too.”

Shiro let him go and left as Keith held the door for him. “Oh,” he caught it before it closed all the way, “one more thing…” Keith rolled his eyes because he _knew_ it wasn’t going to be that easy. “Just so you don’t get upset later if you hear Pidge talking about it, I made chocolates.”

“You _asshole_ ,” Keith scowled at the back of the door as Shiro let it click closed.

Many a time had Keith tried convincing Shiro to become a real life Willy Wonka because his candy making game was top notch. His chocolates were just melt-in-your-mouth perfection and, by some kind of magic, were also dairy-free which made them a top luxury in Keith's life. He hadn’t made any in over a year, so Keith felt more than a little betrayed that Shiro would use his own sweet tooth against him. Yet there it was, an unofficial bribe hanging in front of Keith’s mouthwatering face.

Surely Shiro wouldn’t be heartless enough not to spare even one for his favorite non sibling, right? But Pidge certainly would, and if she has any say in the matter, Keith would never see the tiniest of morsels.

Keith groaned loudly in frustration as he accepted defeat. After throwing on his least dirty jeans and leather jacket, he was flying out the doors. Unsurprisingly Shiro was waiting in his car off the curb with the passenger door cracked open.

Keith slid in and was greeted with a small red baggie landing in his lap. He immediately put a heart shaped chocolate in his mouth,  “That was a cheap shot.”

Shiro shrugged innocently as they pulled away, “I just didn’t want you to get mad at me later.”

Keith glowered as he bit into another one, “You can wipe that smug smile off your face now.”

Shiro laughed.

…

“ _Sweatheart Lanes_?” Keith read the bright pink and blue neon sign above a 60s deco building with a jagged roof hanging over the curb, “Really, Shiro?”

His brother shrugged as he led the way from the parking lot, “Couples get to bowl half off tonight.”

“Last time I counted, you, me, and Pidge made 3 which is a little more than a ‘couple’.”

“Look,” Shiro held the door open for the younger man as he replied, “I’m glad you’ve learned to count, Keith.”

“Shut up.”

“But don’t worry about it, Pidge brought a friend so at the very least there will be two fake couples and we’ll only have to pay for two full people.”

As he stepped inside, Keith was surrounded by the smell of stale nacho cheese, heavy wax, and the ever present sweaty foot.

It was also… _noisy_. From the people to the lanes to the squeaky chairs, everything in there seemed to be making a sound. It was warm too, but not like a normal kind of warm, it was the warmth generated from a too old radiator but boosted by the sheer number of people packed into the small alley. It was their body heat, their noises, their sweaty feet that made Keith want to hightail it, but there was a steady hand gripping his shoulder before he had the chance.

“SHIRO!” Pidge’s distinct voice called to them from across the floor. She was on her feet waving them down enthusiastically as they made their way over.

Keith watched as Shiro enveloped the tiny girl in his arms while she loudly protested. He chuckled to himself as he shrugged out of his jacket. They were cute, he always wanted a little sister and Pidge definitely seemed like she could be Shiro's. It made his heart sting for a moment, but that feeling was quickly swept away at the man teetering on his heels just behind Pidge's shoulders.

"Are you serious?" Lance groaned as soon as he met Keith's eyes. His hands were fitted in his tight jeans as he dramatically titled his to the ceiling. Keith absolutely was _not_ taking note of how well those jeans accented his long legs or how nicely his button up shirt hugged him.

Lance looked _good_ \- blue was definitely his color-and suddenly Keith felt very underdressed (and was reminded that maybe he should return Lance’s _other_ button down). The faded red tee he'd thrown on after work was one he’d worn to bed the night before and his black jeans were just past due for a wash. In his defense, he thought they were only meeting Pidge.

… Not that it should've mattered.

"Oh, well look at that," Pidge adjusted her glasses with a mischievous smirk, "It's Keith."

"Shiro, what the hell?" Keith snapped at his older brother who shrugged innocently, “Pidge _‘brought a friend_ ’?”

"She just told me she was bringing, quote, 'another lonely soul', she never told me who.”

Lance scowled at the girl, a subtle shade of pink dusting his cheeks, "Pensé que eras mi acera!”

Pidge rolled her eyes, “no seas tan teatrero.”

“Mi Tumbar la guara!”

“Eh?”

Lance glared down at her and crossed his arms, “Nunca volveré a hablar contigo.”

“I second all that.” Keith nodded, slightly nervous about whatever he just sided with Lance on, but judging by the tone it was probably something along the same lines as he was thinking. Lance regarded him with a raised eyebrow because, well, he _thought_ Keith didn't know a lick of Spanish, but there was a glint of fear in his eyes that made Keith wonder what exactly Lance said that he didn't want him to understand.

Pidge rolled her eyes, "Chillax, dudes, it's just bowling, and what is a little bowling among friends?”

“He's not my friend,” Lance scoffed.

“I thought you weren't speaking to me.”

“Shiro,” Lance shifted his entire body away from her, “please tell _Katie_ that I was merely stating a fact in the open and to no one in particular.”

Fact? Keith frowned, it was stupid for that to sting the way it did because, given everything that'd happened between them, what on earth would have made him think they were anything close to _friends_?

Shiro stepped between them with a heavy sigh, “Friends or not we're all here now, so let's just try and have fun, okay?”

“Yeah!” Pidge squared herself up beside Shiro and looked between them, “Behave yourselves!”

Lance snorted at her and shook his head, “I will if _he_ will.”

“If _I_ will? Are you serious?” Keith grunted, “You're the one who always starts it.”

“Do _not_ , Mullet!”

Keith clenched his jaw, “Will you stop talking about my hair?”

Lance smirked, “Will you ever cut that thing off?”

“Enough!” Shiro snapped before turning to Pidge, “Maybe we should go…”

“No, Shiro, it's fine,” Keith said, shaking his head. _I didn't leave behind my perfectly scheduled evening for nothing._

“I don't want to be out if I have to listen to you guys arguing all night.”

Keith caught sight of Pidge stepping on Lance's foot and nodding in their direction. Lance glared at him a moment before giving them a renowned sigh,  “Yeah man, don't worry we’ll play nice.”

Shiro studied them intently and looked to Pidge who shrugged.

“Hey,” she started, “I say we just let them get it out on the lanes, that way we can still hang out and have a good time… maybe.”

Shiro sighed, “Are we doing teams, then?”

“Yes, because it’ll be over quicker,” Keith answered.

“Fine, but only if I get to be with Shiro!” Lance declared, wrapping his arms around Shiro's like a child.

Keith glared. Why did _he_ get Shiro? Shiro was his ally, his family, and Lance didn't even really know him.

Keith opened his mouth to protest but was cut off by Pidge snorting indignantly, “Fine, Keith and I are gonna annihilate you! Right Keith?”

“Uhhh…” Keith looked to Shiro with panic in his eyes. So he wasn't a great bowler, whatever, he'd come out under the pretense of spending some time with his brother and Pidge. There wasn't supposed to be a competition and Lance certainly wasn't supposed to be there to watch him fail.

“What's wrong, Mullet,” Lance started condescendingly, “afraid to go up against me? Not that I blame you, I'm like a sharpshooter when it comes to bowling; I hit my mark straight down the middle every time.”

Keith scoffed, “You gave yourself a nickname?”

“It’s not just a nickname, grumpy pants,” Lance started smugly, “the scoreboard will prove it to you.”

“Now wait a minute,” Shiro started, “I don’t think it’s such a good idea to have you two working against each other. You do enough of that already. I’ve got an idea,” Shiro pulled Pidge in with his arm around her shoulders, “Why don’t Pidge and I play against you two?”

“Come again?” Lance asked as he and Keith gawked at the treacherous wall of muscle.

Keith stared dumbfounded, “I change my mind, we should go now.”

“C’mon Keith.”

“No, us on a team?” He gestured between himself and Lance, “That’s a recipe for disaster and I thought you didn’t want to stay if we were just going to fight.”

Pidge shrugged, “Then don’t fight.”

“Consider this a…” Shiro looked up as if trying to find a good word to sum up what Keith was sure meant _‘I absolutely love seeing you miserable’_ . He tapped on his chin thoughtfully before looking back at them with a smile, “ _Team Building_ exercise.”

Keith’s glare intensified, but it was Lance who replied, “That’s dumb, forcing us to bowl together on Valentine’s day isn’t going to be fun for anyone.”

Keith’s heart began to race. That’s right, it _was_ Valentine’s Day, and he was here spending it in part with Lance, which meant that Lance must not have had other plans, which probably meant that he didn’t _have_ a Valentine, which meant that whoever it was he’d been cutting short rehearsals to see were out of the picture now, which potentially meant that Lance McClain, self declared ‘Casanova of the modern age’ was single, which meant absolutely nothing to his old rival and had absolutely nothing to do with why he was now very adamantly staring at the curved booth in front of their lane.

Keith shook his head in time to hear Pidge finish her long-winded response, “-on the losing team.”

“Losing _what_ now?” Lance drew out venomously as he focused on the small girl beside Shiro with her hands on her hips.

“You heard me,” she lifted her chin, adding to the smug look of triumph.

Well Keith hadn’t, but now didn’t seem like the time to admit it.

“No,” Lance shifted his weight to one side as he peered down at her, “all I heard was that you’re too afraid to lose to me.”

“To _you_ ?” Pidge laughed, “ _Please_.”

“Yes, Pidge, to me.” Out of the side of his eye he saw Lance smirk at him, “Even if Keith is on my team I can still kick your quiznak into next century!”

“Wait,” Keith frowned, “What?”

Pidge snorted, “You really think so?”

Lance folded his arms defiantly, “I know so.”

“It’s settled then!” Shiro clapped his hands, “let’s go get our shoes!”

Lance and Pidge raced to the counter while Keith stood blinking, trying to catch up with the situation. One second he and Lance were finally on the same page about not wanting to bowl together and now he’d been thoroughly trapped by Lance’s ego and the fact that he hadn’t driven there himself.

“Um, Shiro?” He asked with an edge to his tone.

Shiro looked over his shoulder, “What’s up?”

Keith honed in his glare, “I hate you.”

“It’s not going to be that bad.”

“I suck at bowling!” Keith started in hushed tones, “You _know_ I suck at bowling so how could you just stand there make us be on the same team!? He’s never going to let me live it down!”

“You two need to learn to work together which means seeing each other’s strengths,” Shiro put his hand on Keith shoulder, “as well as your flaws.”

“Bowling,” Keith stressed as he pushed Shiro’s hand away, “has nothing to do with my musical skills.”

“Maybe not, but working together should help your relationship as teammates.”

“Christ, Shiro,” Keith ran his hand down his face, “this is not about music or team building, this is about you stealing me away from my perfect evening so I can make a fool of myself in front of the guy who already doesn’t like me!”  

“I’m sure it’s not going to be as horrible as you think.”

“This is _Lance_ we’re talking about _!_ ” He pulled at his bangs lightly.

Shiro exhaled, squeezing Keith’s shoulder reassuringly. “Look, this night has a beginning and an ending, what happens in between is up to you.”

Keith sighed deeply through his nose clapping Shiro’s shoulder, “I want two batches of chocolate for my birthday. No, for _your_ birthday!”

Shiro laughed heartily, “Win the match first.”

By the time the two got their shoes, Pidge was already entering the names on the board. Lance stalked through the lanes looking for a racked ball, and Keith figured he’d do the same soon as his shoes were on.

Keith tried to stop the regret surging through him at this decision. It was Valentine's day, a day he hated with every fiber in his being. Valentine’s day, a day of celebrating _not_ being alone, and Keith didn't know how that felt.

That's why he had blankets and pillow because they didn't leave or hold expectations. You can't let down inanimate objects and now he was going to let down Lance and disappoint everyone. He didn't bowl, it was a lame ‘ _sport_ ’ for old men and underage teens, plus it required a team and Keith wasn't a _team_ player.

“You ever gonna finish lacing up or did your hair eat your brains?” Lance taunted, walking up with a sky blue bowling ball. Keith flushed slightly as he tied off his right shoe hastily and started walking to the balls.

The array of colored balls annoyed Keith and he observed them each critically, trying to remember if heavier ones were faster or if the smaller ones were. Chewing his lip, he experimentally grabbed an orange one to test how it felt in his hand. His fingers didn't get stuck so that was good?

Grease wafted through the air has an understaffed food counter scrambled to keep up with the growing line. _Poor bastards_ . Just as he shifted his pitied gaze away, a cherry red ball caught the corner of Keith's eye and he had to admit it was drawing. As he ducked through the crowd, his patience for the human race dwindled. Couples flooded the alleys, spilling up into the upper tables; Keith frowned, he didn't want to be out here with all these busy, noisy, seemingly happy _humans_.

When he got to his destination, the ball was polished and shiny, but not without scratches etching its vibrant surface. It's weight in his hand felt right and his fingers fit the holes perfectly. A small smile of triumph quirked at his lips, and he weaved back to their lane.

He placed his ball in the rack settling on the far end of the bench, he looked up to see who would go first on each side.

Keith squinted as he read the team names printed on the screen, “ _Shidge_ ? _Klance?_ What the hell are those?”

“They're our celebrity couple names,” Pidge shrugged.

“What are you guys talking about?” Lance asked as he plopped back on the booth, “ _Klance?_ Are you kidding, Pidge?”

“It was that or _Leith_.”

Lance pursed his lips and nodded, “Fair point.”

Keith looked between them, “What's wrong with _Leith_?”

They both sighed.

“Everyone ready?” Shiro asked enthusiastically in a way that had Keith imagining they were all children getting ready for a little league game. Shiro would make a good little league coach. Maybe Keith would talk to him about that sometime.

Shiro started rolling his shoulders back he approached the lane. Keith had always admired how Shiro always looked calm and in control, but at that moment he felt more resentful than anything. Why couldn't he be more like that?

Shiro’s arm came back and snapped forward, hurtling the ball down the alley. Pins crashed satisfyingly leaving a spare, Shiro hissed ‘yes’ turning around with confident smile. Keith felt the groan that came from Lance in his soul. They were so boned.

It was _team Klance’s_ turn, and Lance, much to Keith’s genuine gratitude, volunteered to go first. Keith watched his shirt pull taut against his wide back has he stretched forward, off of the booth, to inspect the ground.

 _Don't look at his ass. Don't look at his ass. Don't look at his- God_ _Damn!_ He couldn't help it! His eyes slipped because Lance just _had_ to hum as he straightened back up. _Fuck._

Keith was so focused on redirecting his blood flow that he nearly missed Lance's first throw. When he glanced up, Keith saw his dark chocolate locks visible just above the arch of his back as the ball whizzed in front of him. It became a blue blur, speeding down the lane until it seemed to crack straight through the leading pin, sending ripples to the rest until they were all flattened. A perfect strike on the first try.

Maybe they weren't so boned.

Lance threw Pidge a cocky grin as he passed her on his way back to the booth; when he  sunk back beside Keith, he could have sworn Lance winked.

Pidge wore a calculated face as she stalked up the alley, her eyes surveying the pins. She fixed it with a gaze, and, smiling coolly, she brought back her arm. The ball bulleted towards the pin with a roll of thunder and struck with a clap as she nearly leveled the lane. Pidge cheered at the four that remained, turning to stick her tongue out at Lance. He rolled his eyes as she went back to finish them off.

Finally it was his turn. Keith took a deep breath before rocking to his feet. It's was okay, he could _do_ this!

Only, as soon as he took that first step forward, ball pulled into his chest, he realized that no, no he couldn't. The ball flopped from his hand and, by some sort of miracle, knocked a single pin from the corner. He winced, wishing desperately that the floor would open up and consume him before he had to turn around and face his teammate.

When he did, Lance looked as though he'd just witnessed the slaughter of a lamb- his mouth was slack, lips curled in a silent scream, brows pinched tightly over wide eyes. Keith felt as though all the blood had been drained from his body.

He wished he could say it got better from there, but it only seemed to get worse. As the rest of them got perfect or close to scores, Keith’s ball had become well acquainted with the gutters.

It was his 5th time up to the line when Lance had finally had enough. Keith was at the edge of the lane, ball in hand, when he pulled his arm not halfway back and Lance stopped him with a wince. Keith shook it off and tried again but barely even moved before Lance groaned.

“ _What_ , Lance?” He snapped.

“Nothing, it's just,” Lance sighed, “you really suck at this, and normally I would revel in finally finding something you're _not_ good at, but right now, if we don't pull it together, I'm gonna have to listen to Pidge gloat forever."

Keith shifted his weight to one hip and curled the ball into his body, “Then what do you suggest, oh Wise One?”

“I'm glad you asked,” Lance rocked himself off the booth and made his way over to Keith. “First of all, your form is all sorts of out a whack.”

“My form is _fine_!” Keith snapped, holding the ball closer to his chest.

“Look, Mullet.” Lance pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, “I’ve got my reputation to uphold, so just _let me help you!_ ”

Keith's heart was pounding wildly in his ears as he felt himself nod.

Lance let out a rushed breath, “ _Thank you_. Now,” he started by squaring himself beside Keith, “Start by holding your ball to your chest like so…” he mocked holding a ball close and looked down his nose until Keith copied him (though not without an elegant eye roll). “Then,” he continued, demonstrating as he spoke, “pull it back as far as you can while comfortably keeping you arm lined up with third arrow from the center.”

Keith relaxed to look at Lance, “The what?”

Lance sighed and stood back up, “The arrows at the top of the lane? The big one in the middle point directly to the center of the front pin which pretty much guarantees a strike.”

“So why not just start there?”

Lance shook his head, “Because balls tend to spin when you let them go.”

Keith rolled his eyes. That settled it, he didn't need to listen anymore, that was probably his only problem. He was _sure_ his ball would roll straight down the middle this time. Keith squared himself up again and, ignoring Lance’s _wait, no, what are you doing’s_ , he took a step forward and released the ball. He smiled triumphantly as it rolled down the middle… for about 3 seconds before it cut a line straight for the gutter. Pidge burst into laughter behind him and Shiro half heartedly tried shushing her.

Keith turned to face Lance who looked as though he was trying to pull vegetables from his skull.

“Tell me how to stop it from spinning,” he demanded evenly.

“Wha-?” Lance shook his head, “ _You_ can't! That's what I was saying! Just-" Lance cut himself off with an exasperated sigh, “Ya know what this isn't going to work.”

Keith frowned, “You made such a big deal out of helping me with my form and now you're just going to walk away?”

“No,” Lance drew out as he grabbed Keith's ball that had popped back up the track, “but just _showing_ you isn't working.”

“What do you-"

“Turn around.”

Keith’s face flushed, “What?”

Lance raised an eyebrow, “You heard me.”

“Geesh,” Pidge started somewhere behind them, “at least take him to dinner first!”

Lance ignored her and Keith was far too busy at trying to muffle his heartbeat to say anything back.

“First,” Lance started, Keith could very well imagine him cupping his chin, “Straighten up.”

 _That might be hard to do_ , he shook his head at the thought. Now wasn't the time and Lance certainly didn't mean anything like _that_.

Keith rolled his shoulders back to lengthen his spine and teeter his neck. Lance moved around (indeed cupping his chin) carefully analyzing him. Before he'd gone full circle he'd mercilessly berated Keith for his posture, stance, grip, and, of course, his hair.

“You should really think about tying it back sometimes,” he reasoned, “I mean, _how_ can you even see?”

“ _Lance!_ ” Keith snapped.

“I'm just saying,” Lance rolled his eyes. “Okay, let me see you pull your arm back like you're about to roll the ball, only make sure you don't actually let it go.”

“I'm glad you clarified,” Keith deadpanned, staring straight at his ball being held under _Lance's_ arm.

“Oh, right.” Lance handed it over, “Okay shoot. Figuratively, please, you have one more chance not to completely blow this round so hold on to it, yeah?”

Keith huffed, “Yeah okay, I get it.”

Focusing intently on the lines in front of him, he straightened, took a deep breath, stepped, pulled back his-

“Wrong.”

Keith groaned, “I didn't even _do_ anything yet.”

“Yes but it was still _wrong_.” Lance let out a strangled breath as he moved out of Keith's line of sight.

Keith stopped mid breath as he felt Lance settle behind him, “What are you doing?”

“Helping.”

From somewhere far behind them he could hear Pidge snort, “Is that what they're calling it now?”

“Here,” Lance started coolly at his back, “like this.” Keith almost dropped his ball when a warm hand reached around to cup over his. “And _don’t_ let go.”

This was too much, he was too close. Keith couldn't concentrate on anything but the searing hot body mere inches from his back, or the soft fingers spread over the back of his hand, or the heavy breath just behind his ear.

Lance pulled Keith's arm back with his until he deemed it a good place for a wind up. Then he slowly swooped their arms forward, imitating the release of the ball.

The rushing of his own blood was deafening as they ran through the motion again, which was too bad because if it were even a tad quieter he would've been able to hear Lance's own heart pounding uncontrollably- he probably could've _felt_ it if he wasn't otherwise distracted.

“Good,” Lance spoke quietly, his voice vibrated in Keith ear, making him suppress the shiver that ran down his spine. “Now just move with me.”

Keith took a deep breath. Every nerve was telling him to do _something_. Half wanted to hightail it out of there while the other half wanted to sink further into his touch and maybe even do whatever it could to get more of it.

“Step.” Lance commanded. So, he stepped with Lance attached like a shadow to his movements, “Step.” He moved again, “Bring it back,” Keith's arm pushed back, Lance's hand still over his as they swung forward and he whispered, “ _now_.”

Keith released the ball and watched, still pressed into Lance, as it knocked into the first pin and sent the rest down with it. They cheered- Keith pulled his fist down as Lance jumped behind him.

“Yeah!” He exclaimed as Keith turned to meet his bright eyes, “Way to go, Kogane. We'll make a bowler of you yet!”

Keith’s cheeks burned, and in that moment he was very grateful to Pidge’s loud jeers. Shiro’s turn came around again and Keith found himself in a predicament.

The smell of stale nachos meant there were nachos, and stale or not they were a guilty pleasure, even if they did make him sick to his stomach. Besides, right now he could use the distraction from the boy trotting back up to the lanes.

Digging through his wallet he found a twenty and some odd change, he nodded and stood. Another enthusiastic whoop told him Lance got yet another strike. Keith looked up in time to see the hem of his shirt slide up as he jumped, exposing a sliver of smooth honey kissed brown skin. _Stop it, Keith,_ _stop it_ _!_

“I'll be back,” Keith declared as Pidge went for her ball. He was about to walk off into the melee when Lance grabbed his arm. Keith felt a blush on his neck.

“You're next, where are you going?” Lance’s grip was tight but not uncomfortable. Not unlike the night that grip was wound in his hair as Lance pulled him-

“Food,” Keith squeaked in a desperate attempt to silence his thoughts. He cleared his throat, gesturing vaguely to the food counter that was just losing its line. “It's the best time to go, no one's there.”

Pidge glanced over her shoulder, ball in hand at the first step of her turn. One second she was there, the next she materialized at Keith's side grabbing his arm from Lance, “Food is good.”

She began to drag Keith behind her. Lance had no time to protest as Keith was ripped away.

“Wait,” he called after them, “you too?”

“Play this round again while we're gone.” Pidge called over her shoulder.

“But the last frame is supposed to be _mine_!” Lance whined.

“Then just _wait_!”

“I only have twenty,” Keith grumbled as they reached the counter, “so don't go crazy.”

“What a coincidence, so do I,” she winked before looking at the weathered cashier and ordering. Two hot dogs and one large can of Red Bull (as if she needed the energy). The man rung them up and one of the other soulless staff started prepping the hot dogs. Keith figured he should get something for Lance as he scanned the menu.

“Can I get an order of nachos, an order of chili cheese fries, one large Dr. Pepper, and-” the glanced back at Lance, “I don't know, a large Pepsi?”

“So,” The cashier started casually as he finished ringing him up, “Bring your girlfriend with you tonight?”

Keith had been preoccupied getting the cash he felt offended by the question. He glanced up at the cashier from under his eyelashes, “No,” he flitted his gaze to Pidge stuffing her face with a hot dog ungracefully. “Definitely not.”

Pidge smacked his side with a huffed asshole. The cashier laughed, and their orders were set down in front of them. After gathering their food and choosing utensils, they headed back to their game.

Lance looked up at him from the bench and Keith glanced away, handing him his chili fries off the tray. He studied them before easing them out of Keith's hand.

“Thanks buddy,” he practically sang, the smile and cheery tone made Keith's stomach flip. He hated how much he seemed to like Lance's smile- his small, true smiles of gratitude like he couldn't believe someone had actually thought of him. It hit too close to home and Keith couldn't stand how much he wanted more.

“There's a, uh, drink too,” he tried to play it off nonchalantly, taking an extra cheesy chip from his stack. “It's just Pepsi, I-I didn't know what you’d like so I guessed.”

He kicked some of the globs of cheese from the surface experimentally. Sometimes the cheese tasted horrible and Keith wouldn't take any chances of stuffing something horrible in his mouth. The cheese had a nice spicy bite so Keith gave one last lick at the chip before eating it whole. He glanced over and saw Lance staring his mouth open slightly.

“What?”

“N-nnothing.” _Cough_ , “Nothing.” Lance looked away, stabbing a fry with his plastic fork he munched angrily. Keith tried to study him but gave up to set aside his nachos as he licked his fingers for stray cheese. Pidge laughed maniacally and Lance chastised her to _‘Just go already!’_

“Keith,” Shiro started in his trademarked ‘dad’ voice, “please tell me you're not actually eating _nachos_.”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, “so what?”

Shiro snatched the small cardboard boat from his hands, “ _So_ , you're going to make yourself sick!”

“I'll be fine!” Keith made a move for them, but Shiro kept it from his reach.

“Woo!” Pidge cheered at the X that appeared in their score box, but her victory was ignored.

“Why would you get sick?” Lance asked, a stray glob of chili sticking to the corner of his mouth. Keith wanted to swipe it away but Pidge threw a napkin in Lance’s face before he had the chance to do something stupid.

“Thanks for noticing me awesome strike,” she huffed as she sat back.

“Nice job, Katie!” Shiro clapped her shoulder supportively.

“Yeah yeah, way to go,” Lance brushed it off before turning back to Keith, “but seriously, do have something against cheap food?”

“What?” Keith asked, “No!”

“Then what's your problem with nachos?”

“I don't have a problem with nachos, I _love_ nachos!”

“You shouldn't,” Shiro scolded.

“Why not?” Pidge jumped in.

“He's lactose intolerant,” Shiro answered mechanically.

Keith rubbed his temples. Why did Shiro have to say anything? He's a grown man, he could take care of himself. Besides, not that it really mattered, but it wasn't something Lance (or Pidge) really needed to _know_ about him. “I can eat a small thing of nachos and be _fine_.”

“Ah huh,” Shiro rolled his eyes, “Just go, it's your turn anyway.”

Keith scowled, “I'm coming back for those, Shiro.”

Keith grabbed his ball and trotted up to the lane. He squared his shoulders, getting into the form Lance showed him, and took a deep breath. The feeling of Lance’s hand on his made his heart flutter, and now it felt hot, as if his was still right there. He wanted to win, not just for competition but to make Lance smile again.

The thought brought a serious concentration to his eyes as he pulled his arm back.

_I win he smiles._

Keith snapped his arm forward, releasing the ball. The pins crashed and his fist pumped. He turned to look at Lance who looked at him stunned. His gaze was airy like no one was home, but they left a light on. Then his lips quirked into a broad smile and he shot Pidge a shit eating grin.

“Look at that, someone learns fast!” He smiled, standing to greet Keith. The pair stood there, Keith still one step higher at the edge of the stage, not knowing exactly what to do besides stare at each other.

“Oh my God,” Pidge snorted and Keith saw Shiro shoot her a look as he got to his feet.

Lance initiated contact by holding his hand up and Keith met him in a high five, “Last frame, buddy, we’re gonna win this.”

Their hands followed each other down, knuckles brushing as Keith stepped down on his way to the booth. Lance stayed there, watching as Shiro knocked down half of the pins on his first go. Pidge hollered encouragement, but Shiro “tripped” on the follow through and only ended up taking out another two. Lance patted his shoulder as they passed each other. Pidge groaned into another mouthful of her second dog and Keith smiled widely. It was over, Lance would get another strike and, against all odds, they would actually win!

Keith grabbed his nachos before Shiro had a chance to stop him; much to his dismay he discovered that _someone_ (Lance) ate a third of them. He looked over to the fries and then up at Lance. He had his back turned so Keith took the opportunity to shovel two forkfuls into his mouth. Shiro shook his head disapprovingly and Pidge cackled.

 _“_ Don't say I didn't warn you,” he scolded as Keith shoveled more of the nacho cheese on top of a chip.

He shrugged and bit into it just as he heard the roll of the ball. Keith jumped to his feet to watch as the blue blur slammed into the pins and finalized their victory. He jumped, mirroring Lance when he turned around. Lance’s face was cracked in a wide, open-mouthed smile as he ran over. Before Keith knew what was happening, arms wrapped themselves around his shoulders and he was being pulled into a tight hug. He gasped in surprise and had to push back to cough out the jagged pieces of chip that had broken off in his throat.

“You okay, buddy?” Lance asked, patting his back.

Keith shot him a thumbs up as he hunched over. “I’m-" _cough_ “good.” _cough_.

Lance sniggered as Pidge marched over.

“I demand a rematch!” She stomped her foot for emphasis.

“Pidge,” Shiro started, “they won fair and square.”

“It was a fluke, I tell you!”

Lance snorted, “ _Someone's_ a sore loser.”

“No,” Pidge stepped forward, “ _You're_ the one who's going to be the sore loser when we're done with you! Rematch, now.”

Lance studied her with a smug expression before looked at his teammate and shrugging, “What do you think, Keith? Should we give The Gremlin a chance to redeem herself?”

Keith felt his heart skip. Play again? With Lance looking at him the way he was now? “Sure,” his voice cracked and he _felt_ Shiro’s eyebrow quirk. Keith cleared his throat, “I- I mean, why not?”

Lance smirked at Pidge and leaned his elbow on Keith's shoulder, “We're gonna wipe the floor with you!”

Shiro chuckled, “Looks like you two are getting along.”

“Yeah,” Pidge rolled her eyes. “If only they were like this at rehearsals.”

“Maybe we would be if _someone_ kept their tempo,” Lance teased.

“Well,” Keith smirked, “if only you sang half as well as you bowl...”

Lance pushed off to glare at him, “What's that supposed to mean?”

Keith shrugged, “Just, um, that you, ah, bowl well and, um,” he stumbled over the explanation he already knew was _not_ going to sound right, “that it's a shame you're not as good at singing.”

Lance’s face fell, “Ya know what, nevermind, I'm out.” He turned on his heel, “Have fun and happy friggin Valentine's day.”

“Lance,” Pidge started after him, “c’mon don't be like that.”

Keith groaned at the things that seemed to come out of his mouth without thought. He hadn’t meant to say something hurtful, but he at the same time he knew that would hit him where it hurt and he still did it. What was wrong with him?

As if his own self berating wasn’t enough, Shiro turned to him, frustration deeply etched in his brow, “ _Really_ , Keith?”

“What?” He started defensively even though he certainly knew what, “He didn’t need to take it so _seriously_.”

“Why did you have to say anything at all?” Shiro asked with a withering look. Keith didn't answer- he _couldn’t_.

So he settled for doing what he did best which was get overly defensive, “I didn’t even want to come out tonight?”

Shiro crossed his arms, “Is that supposed to excuse your behavior?”

“I’m just saying that this whole stupid night was your idea! And even when I said that I wanted to go you made me stay!”

“I didn’t make you do anything, Keith.”

A humorless laugh escaped Keith before he could help it, “Bribe? Guilt? Same-fucking-things.”

When Shiro didn’t respond right away, Keith quickly switched out of the uncomfortable rental shoes, then, when he was done with that, he stormed out to find the nearest bus stop.


	16. Delayed Apologies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh. Heh. Hey guys. I'm alive and well and so sincerely sorry for the delay!  
> I wanted to wait until I was a few drafts ahead before posting this because I really dont want to leave you hanging again for so long.  
> That being said, the chapters may become a little shorter, basically just cutting off where I would have put a break before. This way I can hopefully keep up on my updates. I will go back to trying to post every other week, but life gets busy so no promises there.  
> Thank you for your patience and for sticking with me this far! You truly are amazing individuals! ❤❤❤❤

This was stupid. This was so fucking stupid. Why was he here? He didn’t _really_ do anything wrong! Lance groaned, pulling his fingers through his hair as he faced off the outside of an apartment door.

Okay, so that wasn’t entirely true, maybe he’d overreacted just a _tinge_ . Dammit, why did Keith’s poor attempt at a joke get Lance so worked up? He’d been teasing the other playfully just moments before, so why why _why_ did Keith’s words _sting_?

Lance shouldn’t even care enough for them to affect him like that- at all really. Keith was only teasing him _back_ (albeit very poorly), there wasn’t a need for Lance to have gotten so offended, but he did and that only made the brunet more frustrated!

Why Keith? Why did it always have to be _Keith_?

Lance had given it a couple of days before seeking the raven haired boy out, which was apparently too long according to both Hunk and Pidge since it put off rehearsals. The gremlin herself went after him after he’d stormed out of the alley like an angry mother who just watched her child push down another. She even pulled him by the ear to get him down to her level.

 _“Wait just a minute, Mister!” She'd told him_ _as he was loudly complaining about her_ _unusually strong grip, “You had_ _no reason_ _to blow up like that!”_

 _“Hey!” Lance started pulling at her wrist to wrangle himself away. When he did he straightened up and pouted, “I had_ _every_ _reason!”_

_The strawberry blonde crossed her arms as she scowled, “Oh don't give me that, you were just shit talking him and suddenly you can't take it when he deals it back?”_

_“I was_ _joking_ _!”_

 _“_ _So was he_ _!”_

_“Was he, though?” The boy argued, “Because it sure as hell didn’t sound like it.”_

_“So the guy can’t kid worth crap,” Pidge shrugged, “doesn’t mean he wasn’t_ _trying_ _and certainly doesn’t mean you had to freak the fuck out.”_

Hunk had also had very little sympathy on the matter when he found out. Lance woke up the day after to find his best friend glaring down at him from the side of his bed. Hunk blatantly sided with Pidge, saying the other was _‘too sensitive when it came to Keith’_ and what part of _‘get along for the sake of the band’_ did he not understand! Lance felt ganged up on, but he also _knew_ they were right; he'd known it since he first stormed away at the alley. Still, that didn't mean he was going to _admit_ it.

So, naturally, Lance maintained his proud demeanor and denied any fault until that evening after class when he came home to a locked door and taped note telling to make up with Keith by rehearsal tomorrow or else he’d need to find another place to sleep.

He tried to find shelter with Pidge who quite literally slammed the door in his face; Shiro suddenly developed a really bad cough when Lance showed up there. He could always go home, but his parents were out of town and he'd lost his _and_ the hide-a-key long ago.

So, Lance McClain inevitably swallowed his pride and drove to his adversary’s apartment.

The ride in the elevator had made his hairs stand on end as all he could think about was how the cool metal wall felt against his back when Keith had slammed him against it. When the doors slid open with a _DING_ , Lance tried retracing his steps from when he stomped down the hallway half naked, and, after one failed (and _very_ awkward) guess, he was directed to the apartment he'd been seeking.

Lance gnawed at his bottom lip, fist hovering in front of the door like a hummingbird looking to land safely on a cactus bloom. Did he really have to do this? Would it even make a difference? He'd waited so long before coming here or even contacting Keith that Lance feared the gesture would be too little too late. Lance dropped his hand with a renowned sigh and turned to leave.

Even if he did say something, Keith would probably think it insincere, which maybe the brunet would have tried to make it seem before, but the fact of the matter was that, now that he was at the other's door, he knew it couldn't be. Lance knew that the apology was warranted and Keith deserved at least that, no matter how it might come across.

“Well fuck,” he grumbled to himself as he turned on his heel once more and marched purposefully back to the door. This time he slammed his fist against the hardwood before he had a chance to talk himself back out of it.

There was no answer.

Lance frowned and tried knocking louder.

Again the brunet was met with silence.

“Keith,” he started through the door, “open up, man!”

Nothing.

“Seriously? C’mon, your bike’s outside so I know you're here!”

Not even crickets.

“Ya know what? Fine!” Lance threw his hands in the air,  “ _Excuse me_ for trying to be the bigger person!”

With an indignant huff, the agitated brunet started back toward the elevator.

“Fucking bastard!” Lance began grumbling to himself as he waited for the elevator- arms crossed, one foot tapping impatiently. “Bet he took one look out the peephole and just decided to ignore me-" _DING_ “-like the inconsiderable _jerk_ he-”

“Lance?” Keith asked, shocked as the other snapped up his head and stared at him with doe eyes. Keith gulped his nerves as a thousand and one questions raced through his head, the loudest of which was: “What are you doing here?”

“I-I, um, I-" Lance stuttered incoherently. The elevator’s alarm began ringing from having the doors stay opened for too long, prompting the raven haired boy out and one step closer to Lance’s personal space. “Well, uh, ya see-"

“Excuse me,” a stern woman interrupted, “are you waiting for the elevator?”

“Um,” Lance frowned, “no?”

“Then would you _kindly_ step out of the way?” The woman snapped.

Keith’s eyebrows flew to his hairline as he scowled, subtly pushing Lance behind him, “Only after you _kindly_ remove that stick up your-”

“ _Okay_ , buddy,” Lance pulled the other away by his wrist before any further damage could be done, “let's just get back to the apartment, hm?”

Over his shoulder, the brunet glanced at the older woman who looked about ready to call your manager. Her expression, poorly dyed blonde hair, and short A-line cut was so absurd and cliche that, once they reached the door, Lance had to use his hand to muffle his laughter.

Keith gave him a quizzical look while twisting his key and leading the way inside.

“What a _bitch!_ ” Lance weezed out once the door clicked closed. The raven haired boy joined him in soft chuckles as the pair kicked off their shoes. “I mean,” Lance started as he absently made his way to the black cushioned couch, “did you _see_ the look she gave you!”

Keith stared at him- eyes wide, mouth thinned as he crossed his arms self-consciously. “What are you doing here, Lance?”

The brunet clicked his tongue, reality weighing back on him, soft cushions suddenly like spikes beneath him. “Right,” he sprang back to his feet, “so, um,” he began rubbing at the back of his neck, “Look, man, about the other day…”

Keith visibly tensed before speaking, “What about it?”

Lance barely held back an eye roll as he signed, “I don't know, I guess I've been thinking about it, and _maybe_ I might have,” he cleared his throat and pointedly looked anywhere but at the other, “overreacted a little bit.”

“Oh,” the other replied in half a daze.

“ _‘Oh’_?” Lance scoffed, crossing his arms defensively, “That’s all you have to say?”

“I mean,” Keith shuffled his feet awkwardly, “Yeah you kinda _did-_ ”

“You know, I didn’t come here to-”

“But, I guess, so did I,” Keith talked over Lance’s attempt at an interruption, fully silencing him with a serious gaze, “and I’m sorry.”

Lance was silent, not daring to break eye contact while he took in the other’s words. Finally he croaked, “Oh.”

This time Keith went on the defensive as his self consciousness caught up with him, “ _‘Oh’_ , what?”

“Seriously, this again?” The boy on the other side of the room rolled his eyes, “ _Oh_ , like ‘ _okay I'm happy to hear that’_.”

“You're happy to hear that I'm sorry?”

Lance groaned, rubbing his palm against his forehead, “You're killing me here, Mullet.”

“What?”

“Look,” he sighed, stepping just close enough to grip the other's shoulder, “I'm sorry, you're sorry, it's a mutual apology that we can now put behind us, right?”

Keith eyed him, “Right…”

“Great!” Lance patted his shoulder with a wide grin. “So,” he started again with a yawn, pulling his hand back to stretch his arms over his head, “we're good?”

Keith couldn’t help the tiny curve at the very corner of his mouth as he echoed, “Yeah, we're good.”

“Awesome!” Lance clapped his hands together as an awkward silence settled over them. Keith’s gaze was intense, his face mostly expressionless; and what was there was unreadable. Perhaps a solid 30 seconds passed like that, but it felt an eternity before Lance finally broke it. “Well,” he started, teetering back on his heels, “I guess I'll just go now.”

“So that's the only reason you came _all_ the way over here?” Keith asked, confused.

“Um, yeah,” Lance answered tartly,  “Why _else_ would I come over?”

“I don't know,” the other simply shrugged, “but why didn't you just call?”

Lance scoffed, “Would you have answered?”

“Yes.”

The conviction in Keith’s answer took Lance completely off guard, and he had trouble coming up with an appropriate reaction. “O-oh, well, um,” he stammered, absently scratching behind his ear, “I'll remember that next time.”

“Next time you want to apologize?” Keith joked hesitantly- a bashful smile beneath dark eyes full of anxiety.

Lance forced himself to chuckle, “Yeah, or something like that.” Another tense silence engulfed them, but the brunet was sure to keep it short this time. “Okay, well, um,” he gesture past Keith, “I should…”

“Oh, right!” Keith jumped back, giving the other plenty of room to walk past him.

“So I'll see you tomorrow for rehearsal?” Lance asked as he opened the door.

“Yeah,” the raven-haired boy replied, “I’ll be there.”

“Okay good.” Lance nodded, half in the hall. “Well, bye.” He looked back, catching Keith's eyes a moment before the door closed.

“Bye,” Keith echoed to the now empty room.

Lance stayed frozen on the other side of the door with the unsettling feeling that there was more that needed to be said. How much more? What _kind_ of more?

Why did he feel like he didn't want to go?

His head pounded as it went over possible answers, but in the end it didn't matter; he couldn't figure it out. So Lance forced himself to move forward because, he reasoned, the further he got from Keith, the less he’d have to worry about those feelings… Right?

Blue was parked on the curb right off the corner of the block and across the street from a 7-11. Lance pulled out his phone as soon as he started her up, needing confirmation that he was welcome back home before setting off.

“ _I hope you're calling to tell me that we still have a bassist…_ ” Hunk answered right away.

“Well _hello_ to you, too, buddy!” Lance made sure to convey his eye roll through his tone. “And, to answer your question, yes we do still have a bassist.”

“ _So you talked to Keith?_ ”

The brunet sighed, rubbing at his forehead, “Yeah, I talked to Keith.”

 _“And?_ ” the voice on the other end pressed.

Lance huffed, annoyed. “And he’ll be at practice tomorrow.”

“ _...Are you seriously not going to tell me what happened?_ ” Hunk asked. “ _You didn't try to sleep with him again, did you_?”

“What? NO!” He started defensively, “Why would you even _ask_ me that!?”

“ _Hey, I think it's a fair question_ .” The other reasoned, “ _I mean, considering your history and all…_ ”

“Okay, Hunk, I get it,” Lance replied shortly, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “But, seriously, _no_! Nothing happened. I went to his place and apologized for overreacting the other night, then he apologized for coming off as a jerk, and everything's good now, okay?”

“ _Hmm_ ,” his friend considered for a moment, “ _You actually apologized?_ ”

“Well, yeah. You kinda _made_ me. Speaking of,” Lance shifted into drive, “I can come home now, right?”

“ _...Er…”_

He stopped his slow creep forward. “What do you mean ‘Er’?”

“ _Um, well,_ ” Hunk stammered, “ _To be honest, I didn't think you'd actually_ _do_ _it. At least, not right away._ ”

“What’s your point?”

“ _I'm out of town_ ,” he hesitated, _“my parents surprised me and flew into Tucson for the weekend._ _I was just going to stay the night tonight and be back by rehearsal tomorrow._ ”

Lance aggressively slammed his car back into park as he sighed heavily, “Please tell me you're joking, Hunk.”

“ _Sorry dude,_ ” the voice winced, “ _really, I am. I figured you'd be at your parents._ ”

“Nah, they're out of town, too.” Lance stated absently as he thought. He supposed, for a moment, that he could sleep in his car, but instantly scrapped that idea as his heater rattled precariously over his engine. He shook his head to himself, “ _Shit!_ ”

“ _Maybe you can call Pidge or Shiro?_ ”

“Yeah, maybe,” he answered, already knowing he wouldn't try bothering either again. Then he ran through several scenarios in which he might be able to break into his house. “Hey, how strong do you think the latches on our windows are?”

Hunk sighed in a sort of defeat, “ _Well, the windows themselves wouldn't be that hard to open, except that we stuck those boards between the gaps so that someone couldn't do_ _exactly_ _what you're thinking of doing._ ”

“Ah right,” Lance groaned. “Damn our common sense!”

“ _Look, I can come back if you really need me to..._ ”

“No, it's okay,” the brunet sighed, drumming at his steering wheel as he looked out the window. “I'll figure something out.” A familiar leather jacket caught his attention as the wearer crossed the street to the 7-11. Lance watched Keith disappear inside, and got an idea he was sure to regret tomorrow. “Hey, I gotta go.”

“ _Everything okay?_ ”

“Hm? Yeah, yeah, everything's fine, um I'll text you later.”

“ _Okay… bye, I guess_.”

“Mhm. You too,” Lance responded absently before ending the call. He waited for Keith to come back out of the convenience store before stepping out of Blue.

Keith was tapping a new pack of cigarettes on his palm when Lance called to him, “Hey, Mullet!”

The raven haired boy looked up, surprised as the other jogged up to meet him in the middle of the road. “Lance? What are you doing?”

“Well,” he began, rubbing at his neck as he fell into step beside Keith, “it's a long story… but, basically, I've been locked out of my house and Hunk’s not home to let me in, and my parents are out of town so their place isn’t an option, and Pidge and Shiro seem to be _too busy_ in their lives to help me out, so I was kinda wondering if I could maybe…”  his face scrunched up in a wince as he finished, “crash here tonight?”

Keith stopped dead as they got to the curb, looking up at the other wide wide eyes. “Seriously?”

“Um,” Lance looked a bit shocked at his response, averting his gaze to the passing cars and awkwardly rubbing his neck, “I guess not, then.” His shoulders slumped slightly as he added in a small voice, “Sorry I asked.”

“Wait, no,” Keith grabbed at Lance’s arm before he could turn away, “that’s not what I meant. I just, I don’t know, wasn’t expecting it.”

“Oh, well, yeah,” the brunet turned back fully to the other, “if you’d lend me your couch for the night, I’d really appreciate it. Or even your floor, I’m not picky.”

“You already talked to Shiro and Pidge?”

“Um, yeah,” Lance lied.

“Hm,” Keith regarded him, a playful smirk on his lips, “glad to know I was your first choice.”

Lance snorted, “Always, Keith.”

The raven haired boy shook his head, smiling, “Yeah, right.”

“So,” the brunet licked at his lips nervously, “is that a yes?”

Keith took a deep breath in, studying Lance who began fidgeting under his watchful gaze. “Yeah, of course,” one corner of his mouth curved up, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes as he finished, “what are _friends_ for?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, since it really has been so long, please feel free to let me know what you think about this chapter. I want to be sure I'm being consistent with my characterization. I mean, I think I have been, but I've also been staring at this for so long so my judgement might be a bit biased...

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhhhhhhh!  
> Thank you for making it to the end of what's up of this fic. I hope you enjoyed it, and feel free to leave me any feedback. And, yo, come follow me if you want some quality Voltron (Klance) trash: [Tumblr](https://rubbish-in-space.tumblr.com), [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RubbishinSpace), [Instagram (because sometimes I try to art?)](https://www.instagram.com/opl_mor/).  
> Update: OH my quiznak guys, PLEASE look at this AMAZING [commission](https://rubbish-in-space.tumblr.com/post/164305263674/emuyh-art-commission-for-rubbish-in-spaces) done by [emuyh-art](https://emuyh-art.tumblr.com) for chapter 3.  
> Also: Chapter 15 bowling [date](https://rubbish-in-space.tumblr.com/post/166586614549/inkymint-this-was-too-much-he-was-too-close) done so so beautifully by [inkymint](http://inkymint.tumblr.com/)   
> They are both amazing so please look at all of their other art!


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